Down the historic Susquehanna;

(ilass
Book

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

36

DOWN THE

HISTORIC

SUSQUEHANNA

A SUMMER'S JAUNT

Otsego to the Chesapeake

BY

Charles Weathers Bump

BALTIMORE:
Press of The Sun Printing Office

1899.

TWO COPIES RECElVBDi

Library of CotlgPttflt
Office of the

ljr.,5_1Roq

Register of Copyrights

48534

Copyrighted, 1899.
All Rights Reserved.

For the author's circulation,
reprinted in revised and enlarged
form, through the courtesy of the
proprietors of The Baltimore
Sun, to whom this acknowledg-
ment of their generosity is due.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

PAGE.

I. A Trip of Much Promise, ... 1
Cooperstown, N. Y., August 15.

II. In the Pages of History, ... 8
Cooperstown, N. Y., August 16.

III. Not Unsung by Pouts, 15

Cooperstown, N. Y., August 17.

IV. Cooper's "Glimmerglass" ... 25

Cooperstown, N, Y., August 18.

V. Two Modern Explorers, . . . 32
Richfield Springs, N. Y., Aug. 19.

VI. Thro' the Hop Country, ... 40
Afton, N. Y., August 20.

VII. Where Mormonism Began, ... 48
Binghamton, N. Y., August 22.

VIII. Along the Southern Tier, ... 57
Owego, N. Y., August 23.

IX. Legends of Two Hills, .... 66
Pittstou, Pa., August 24.

X. The Vale of Wyoming, .... 80
Wilkesbarre, Pa , August 25.

XL Beneath a Big City, 90

Wilkesbarre, Pa., August 26.

XII. The Home of Priestley, .... 97
Northumberland, Pa., August 28.

PAGE-

XIII. Down the West Branch, .... 107

Suubury, Pa., September 2.

XIV. The Passing of the Boats, . . .120

Sunbury, Pa., September 8.

XV. A Noble Water Gap, 126

Harrisburg, Pa., September 4.

XVI. In Busy Harrisburg, 134

Harrisburg, Pa., September 5.

XVII. Some Model Farms, 142

Columbia, Pa., September 6.

XVIII. The Story op Columbia, .... 149
Columbia, Pa., September 7.

XIX. The Land op Big Barns, .... 157
Columbia, Pa., September 9.

XX. Amid Charming Highlands, . .164
Port Deposit, Md., September 12.

XXI. At the River's Mouth, .... 172
Havre-de-Grace, Md., Sept. 14.

XXII. George Talbot's Caye, . . . .ISO
Watson's Island, Md.,Sept. 15.

I.
A TRIP OF MUCH PROMISE.

Cooi'EitsTowN, Otsego County, N. Y.,
Aug. 15.— The other day when I told a
friend I proposed to spend a summer vaca-
tion in a trip making the entire length of
the Susquehanna river from Lake Otsego
to the Chesapeake, he said to me, sort of
apologetically:

"I have always considered the Susque-
hanna such a useless river. It seems so big
and lumbering, and it has not the charm
of the Hudson for scenery or historic in-
terest."

Before we parted, an hour later, I had
so oppositely convinced my friend that I
am sure he is now envying me the trip. As
for myself I redoubled my enthusiasm over
the summer scheme. So here I am at the
head of the big river, looking forward
with eagerness to a jaunt of many miles
down stream and forearmed, as it would
seem, from "reading up" on what I am to
see in the way of fine scenery, of sites in-
vested with historic interest, and moun-
tains and vales replete with romantic
legends and Indian tales.

A great many other persons are unde-
niably in the same boat with my friend.
Perhaps I myself might have been as igno-
rant had I not had a grandfather who was
familiar with every mile of the Susque-
hanna and who repeated many of its most
interesting incidents as we traveled to-
gether along portions of its banks.

Casting about for a reason, it seems to
me that the fame of the Susquehanna has
two distinct setbacks which have led to its
comparative neglect by travelers in search
of the picturesque or fond of tracing the
footsteps of American history.

One of these setbacks arose from the cir-
cumstance that the river was peopled by
three different Commonwealths— Maryland,

Pennsylvania and New York. The New
Yorkers look eastward to New York city
and Albany. Similarly the Pennsylvanians
mostly find a commingling of interest with
Philadelphia. And out of all this grows
much ignorance on the part of one section
in the doings of another. In Maryland, for
instance, little is known of the prosperity
and attractiveness of the river valley with-
in the limits of New York. While contrari-
wise I have at times found much apathy in
Central New York about the history and
development of the river in Maryland and
Lower Pennsylvania.

Perhaps much of this isolation might
have been overcome had the Susquehanna
been regularly navigable by steamboats
or had the railroads formed a single line
from Cooperstown to Havre de Grace.
Then a steady down-to-Maryland business
would have ensued in big proportions and
the charm of travel up and down the river
would have been strong. , But the steam-
boats could not come and the railroads
mainly turned eastward and westward in
their building, and so the Susquehanna has
been passed by travelers.

The importance of this consideration is
seen by comparing the Susquehanna with
the Hudson, beyond doubt the most ad-
mired of American rivers. Railroads on
both banks and steamboats day and night
carry tourists from New York to Albany
through the entire region of beauty, legend
and history. It is again made obvious by
recalling the Potomac, the scenic portion
of which is traversed by every passenger
to or from the West over the Baltimore
and Ohio Railroad. The Susquehanna
river has not one, but half a dozen rail-
roads. They follow every mile of its banks
from Otsego to the Chesapeake, yet no less
than eight changes of cars are required for
a through journey.

And yet, in spite of such drawbacks,
there is much of genuine interest to be
found in a journey all the way along the
Susquehanna. In its long and winding
course from limpid Lake Otsego, its
scenery is certainly as varied as that of
any river. Sometimes through fertile val-
leys teeming with busy farmers; then

again in narrow, rocky gorges, with moun-
tains close by framing in views that are
hard to excel, and contributing rushing
cascades to swell the big stream; again
past cities alive with industries and im-
portant as railroad centres. In all its
windings it never has the fault of being
monotonous, and often justly earns the
application of those much-abused adjec-
tives, "romantic," "noble" or "grand." No
more pleasing lake scenery can be found
than on and around Otsego; no more beau-
tiful vale entered than that of Wyoming;
no bolder views laid bare than above Har-
risburg, where the river forces its way
with abruptness through a gap in the Kic-
tatinny Mountains; no finer rocky gorges
than from Columbia to Port Deposit.

The painters have not neglected the Sus-
quehanna, especially the men who led
American art in the generation just pass-
ing away. Those who are familiar with
the public and private galleries of our lead-
ing American cities can easily recall can-
vasses reproducing charming bits of river
and mountain scenery from along the Sus-
quehanna and the Juniata and other tribu-
taries. In many instances these paintings
are doubly valuable because they picture
landscapes that have been greatly altered.

Statistics are dull sometimes, but then
again they give much in short compass.
It interests us to be told, for example,
that in the country drained by the Sus-
quehanna there are two millions and a
quarter of inhabitants. When we ask
what is included in this drainage area we
are told by Government investigators that
the Susquehanna drains 26,000 square
miles, of which 6,000 are in New York,
nearly 20,000 in Pennsylvania and a small
fraction in Maryland. In other words,
it comprises about one-seventh of New
York State, in the southern and central
portions, and slightly less than one-half of
Pennsylvania, sweeping from beyond
Scranton on the northeast almost to
Johnstown on the southwest, and from
beyond Lancaster on the southeast to the
oil region of the northwest. Of course,
the Susquehanna does not do this un-
aided. It has many, many active branches.

the chief among which are the Chenango
and the Chemung, in New York State, and
the Juniata and the West Branch, in
Pennsylvania.

Incidentally let me remind you of one
other fact concerning the Susquehanna
which is of importance. It is, without ex-
ception, the longest river on the Atlantic
seaboard, and is overtopped in size only by
a few of the great broad Western rivers.
Its length is counted as 420 miles. That
of the West Branch is more than 200 miles.

The hundreds of towns found every few
miles along the main river and its tribu-
taries show how the two millions and a
quarter of inhabitants are made up. It is
true that there are no cities of the largest
size, but there are many of the next size,
the most conspicuous being Binghamtou,
N. Y., at the junction of the Chenango
river, which has 50,000; Elmira, on the
Chemung, 33.000; Scranton, Pa., on the
Lackawanna, 75,000; Wilkesbarre, on the
main stream, 45,000; Williamsport, on the
West Branch, 35,000; Harrisburg, on the
main stream, 60,000; York, on Codorus
creek, 30,000; Lancaster, on Conestoga
creek. 40,000, and Altoona, 30,000.

We are told also by the Government ex-
perts already quoted that there is a goodly
amount of water power in the rapids and
descents of the Susquehanna and its many
feeders. For instance. Lake Otsego is
1,193 feet above tidewater, so that the
river has to descend that considerable
amount in getting to Havre de Grace.
Much of this power is utilized, but much
of it is not, and we are assured that there
are valuable opportunities to get power for
manufactures along a portion of the West
Branch not yet developed by railroads.

That one gap on the West Branch is the
only part of the entire river which has
not a railroad on the one bank or the
other, sometimes on both. Close students
of American development long ago ob-
served how the rivers helped make the rail-
roads great by yielding their banks to
furnish available routes. This is especially
noticeable in the case of the Susquehanna.
Four of the great through lines to the
West make use of portions of the river

valley. They are the Pennsylvania, the
Lehigh Valley, the Delaware, Lackawanna
and Western and the Erie.

The Pennsylvania comes in from Phila-
delphia some miles below Harrisburg and
leaves the Susquehanna at the mouth of
the Juniata. The Lehigh Valley from
New York enters the valley near Wilkes-
barre and goes up stream to the mouth
of the Chemung at Athens. The Erie
approaches the river east of the town of
Susquehanna and goes west with it to
near Athens. Similarly the Delaware,
Lackawanna and Western comes in at
Great Bend and parallels the Erie to
near Athens and beyond on the Chemung.

Indeed, if the Baltimore and Ohio may
be considered as entering the valley when
it crosses its mouth at Havre de Grace,
it can, with propriety, be asserted that
only one of the big routes from New
York does not use the Susquehanna Val-
ley. That one is the New York Central.

The first 16 miles of the river course be-
low Lake Otsego is followed by the Coop-
erstown and Charlotte Valley Railroad;
then for 80 miles to Susquehanna, the
Delaware and Hudson Railroad is there;
then come the Erie and the Delaware,
Lackawanna and Western on both banks
to Waverly and the Lehigh Valley from
Waverly to AVilkesbarre; then from
Wilkesbarre to Northumberland and Sun-
bury both banks are again occupied, the
right by a division of the Delaware, Lacka-
wanna and Western and the left by a di-
vision of the Pennsylvania Railroad; from
Sunbury to York Haven, through Harris-
burg is the Northern Central Railroad,
part of the Pennsylvania system, and
from Harrisburg to the mouth of the river
at Perryville the east bank contains the
Columbia and Port Deposit divisions of
the Pennsylvania. At Perryville the Phila-
delphia, Wilmington and Baltimore is
tapped.

From which statements it is evident that
the river is followed by railroads for each
of its 420 miles, and that for nearly half
of that distance there are tracks on both
sides. Many other railroads come into the
valley for a few miles here and there.

notably in the great anthracite coal belt
around Wilkesbarre and to the east of the
river below Sunbury. That coal belt is in a
great measure responsible for the develop-
ment of the Susquehanna Valley in popu-
lation and wealth. Mines honeycomb it.
railroads cut into it everywhere and an-
nually there is dug out of it and trans-
ported to domestic and foreign markets
the enormous amount of 50,000,000 tons of
hard coal.

As hard coal has put railroads along one
branch of the Susquehanna so has soft coal
intersected the headwaters of the West
Branch with other railroads. The West
Branch rises in Cambria county, Pennsyl-
vania, not far north of Cresson. The re-
markable thing about this source is that it
is on the west slope of the Alleghany
mountains and that in order to get through
to meet the North Branch at Northumber-
land it has to work its way through the
mountains.

After it leaves Cambria county the West
Branch enters the Clearfield coal region
and running hither and thither in this re-
gion are half a dozen different railroad sys-
tems, including several divisions and
branches of the Pennsylvania; the Penn-
sylvania and Northwestern; the Pittsburg
and Eastern; the Buffalo.. Rochester and
Pittsburg, and the Beech Creek Railroad,
which after leaving the river at Clearfield
again swings alongside of it at Lock Haven
and goes with it to Williamsport, where
the Beech Creek road ends and where it
has an important traffic exchange with the
Philadelphia and Reading. All these rail-
roads are comparatively recent, because
mining in the Clearfield coal region has
only become important within the last dec-
ade.

From Clearfield to Karthaus is the one
bit of the Susquehanna not yet taken up
by railroads, but at Karthaus we again
meet a ramification of the Pennsylvania
system, the Philadelphia and Erie Road.
On this line we may travel for more than
a hundred miles down the river, through
Williamsport and other flourishing towns
and to the meeting place of the two big
Susquehanna branches at Northumberland.

/

From Willianisport to Northumberland the
Pennsylvania is on one bank, while an im-
portant division of the Philadelphia and
Reading is on the other.

I nearly forgot to speak of the intimate
relation of the Susquehanna to a greater
city than any within its watershed. I
mean Baltimore. When rafts and boats
with flour and farm products began to go
down stream in profusion, Maryland's
metropolis was the natural market, though
some of the traffic was diverted overland
to Philadelphia. Then the latter city's
merchants began to reach out, and the
Baltimoreans, to keep the lead, first built
a series of steamboats, which proved to be
failures, then a canal and finally a railroad
—the Northern Central. The canal is dead
now, but the railroad still carries a goodly
trade from the Susquehanna to Baltimore,
though, of course, the manifold industries
of the river towns are too great to be con-
tent with a single market.

Thoughtful men in Baltimore see the
day when that city will have to draw on
the Susquehanna for a water supply. In-
deed, the cost and the advantages were
fully weighed when the present supply
was enlarged 20 years ago, though the
Gunpowder river was then found sufficient.
Today Baltimore has more than half a mil-
lion inhabitants; the limit of the Gunpow-
der's capacity is foreshadowed and the
Susquehanna will come next. Its water
will have to be conveyed nearly 40 miles.
Already the river is used in this way by
cities further upstream, but none of them
approach the magnitude of the Baltimore
idea.

Were I interested in geology or in duck-
hunting and river fishing, there would be
other avenues to open up delights on the
Susquehanna for me. For the geologist
there is a wonderful opportunity in a trip
such as we promise.

I am not a hunter of duck nor a student of
rocks, and so I look for the interesting side
of my jaunt to the natural beauty of the
river valley, to the incidents of its past
and the industries and achievements of the
present. In them is the hope of this pil-
grimage.

II.
IN THE PAGES OF HISTORY.

Cooperstown, Otsego County, N. Y.,
Aug. 16.— So many pretty notions get frac-
tured nowadays by heartless seekers for
facts that it was really no surprise for me
to learn yesterday that all our old ideas
concerning the meaning of the name Sus-
quehanna will have to be revised.

It has been dinned into my ears from
childhood — and I guess the same in your
case, dear reader— that Susquehanna meant
"long, crooked river," or else "broad, shal-
low river," or else "wide, muddy river,"
or "the river of rapids." All seemed ap-
propriate to the big stream, and so you
and I accepted the one or the other as be-
ing the true Indian name.

Now we are told that all were guesses,
made by men with only a half knowledge
of native tongues. In their place we are
asked to believe that the Susquehanna is
"the river of the people with booty taken
in war." And in the light of this assertion
the following facts are recalled:

Capt. John Smith, engaged in exploring
the Chesapeake bay above Virginia in 1608,
entered the mouth of the Susquehanna and
there encountered a different set of In-
dians from those he had previously known.
They were brave, noble-looking fellows of
giant stature — decked out in war paint and
evidently fresh from a fight, as they had
much spoil in their canoes. The doughty
Virginian was unable to talk with them
directly, but he used as interpreter an In-
dian whose tongue he knew. When he
asked the name of his new acquaintances,
the interpreter — unable, possibly, to get or
to understand the real tribal designation —
replied that they were the Susquehan-
noeks. "the people of booty taken in war."

This, at least, is the theory of a recent
scholar, who says that "sasquesa" meant
"war booty," and "anough" meant "men."
The older writers had maintained that
"hanna" was "river," and that the first
part meant either "crooked," "muddy,"
"shallow" or "rapids."

i'ou can take your choice among these
theories and guesses. If you like the ones
which are descriptive of the river, believe
in them. Yet, if the latest be true, it is
rather curious, is it not, that the acci-
dental error of a not over-intelligent in-
terpreter should have given such a pretty
name to a big Indian tribe and, after them,
to this great, majestic river?

I never reflect upon the name of the
river without recalling how the truest of
poets, Coleridge and Shelley, were both
attracted by its sound and its suggestion
of romance, and it was with positive
pleasure that I read today what Robert
Louis Stevenson said of the river when he
crossed it in some of his travels through
this country: "When I heard that the
stream over which we passed was called
the Susquehanna," wrote the English au-
thor, "the beauty of the name seemed
part and parcel of the land. As when
Adam, with divine fitness, named the
creatures, so this word Susquehanna was
at once accepted by the fancy. That was
the name, as no other could be, for that
shining river and desirable valley."

There were other Indian names than the
one now borne. The Onondagas, of the Six
Nations, called the river Ga-wa-no-wa-na-
neh, or "the great island river." Among
the Indians of the West Branch that por-
tion of the Susquehanna was known as
Otzinachson, or the "river of demons," be-
cause of some tribal superstition that seems
to have been widespread. "Quen-ish-ach-
gek-ki," the stream of long reaches, was
another name for the West Branch.

It is often said that Capt. John Smith
was the first white man to view the Sus-
quehanna, but it is necessary to go earlier
than that. There is even a belief that the
famous Feruando de Soto penetrated to
this river, but aside from such a tradition
it is true that the first white men here

were Spaniards, and that they long ante-
dated John Smith.

At an early day Spaniards were in the
Chesapeake, and named it St. Mary's.
From the bay they carried off a native to
Mexico, where he was educated and bap-
tized. This Indian returned to the Chesa-
peake with several Spanish priests, and
some distance up "a large river flowing
into the bay" they founded a missionary
station, which they called Axacan. This
river was most probably the Susquehanna,
and these priests the first white men to
visit it. Their fate was a sad one. Their
Indian protege turned on them and as-
sisted in killing them.

It is odd that while Smith, the English-
man, and these Spanish priests were the
pioneers of the lower Susquehanna, it
should be reserved for a Frenchman and
three Dutchmen to be the first whites to
see the upper portion. The Frenchman
was Etienne Brule, a lieutenant of Sam-
uel Champlain, the Governor of Canada,
and a noted discoverer. Champlain, with
the Huron Indians as allies, in 1615 planned
an attack on the Iroquois in Central New
York. With 12 Hurons Brule was sent to
secure the aid of the Andastes or Caron-
tonans, whose chief village seems to have
been somewhere on the Susquehanna—
possibly near Athens, possibly much
farther down. After many hardships and
several bloody fights Brule reached the
Carontonan town and they started to join
Champlain, but found he had returned to
Canada. This caused Brule to return
with the Carontonans and spend the winter
in explorations. Among other things he
descended the river to "its junction with
the sea." a journey which was made, so he
reported, "through a series of populous
tribes at war with one another." Three
years elapsed before this hardy explorer
got back to Champlain. The narrative of
his adventures has a strange fascination
for us who live in the days of comfortable
railroad travel through peaceful, populous
towns.

About the same time three adventurous
Dutchmen came into this wilderness from
Albany, boated down the Susquehanna as

10

far as the neighborhood of Wilkesbarre,
crossed overland to the Delaware and
thence on to New York. Quite a different
trip from a similar canoe outing often
taken now!

Nearly a century after the explorers
came the traders, mostly established on
that portion of the river now in Pennsyl-
vania. Stories of them are fully retailed
in the histories of that State. Many of
them were French-Canadians. Some were
noted characters, such as Conrad Weiser,
who constantly served as the envoy of the
Penns to the Indians.

In my last letter I mentioned that civ-
ilization moved up the Susquehanna in-
stead of down. This is plainly shown by
the dates of land purchases from the In-
dians. Maryland secured her portion in the
seventeenth century. William Penn prompt-
ly saw the moral value of making pur-
chases from the Indians, and in 1683, the
year after Pennsylvania was settled, he
enlisted the aid of Thomas Dongan, Gov-
ernor of New York, who secured from the
Indians a deed to "all that tract of land
lying upon both sides the river commonly
called or known by the name of the Sus-
quehanna." Dongan, in 1696, transferred
the title to Penn for the consideration of
£100. What a miserable sum this now
seems for a region where at least a million
persons dwell. It was, of course, limited
by the grants of royal charters, but, as I
read it, it included the entire Susquehanna
Valley within what is now Pennsylvania.

Penn seems not to have been satisfied
with this title, for in 1700 he had it rati-
fied by the Susquehannocks, and in 1701 by
other Indian tribes. Later his sons began
to make fresh purchases. They bought
everything south of Harrisburg in 1736;
up to the neighborhood of Sunbury in 1749
and 1758, and to Towanda in 1768. The
last purchase by Pennsylvania was in
1784, when the area north of Towanda
and west • of the Susquehanna was ob-
tained. New York's purchases of the Sus-
quehanna Valley occured in the same dec-
ade. Settlements in every case followed
closely behind colonial purchases.

11

The Indian history of the Susquehanna
is remarkable. It was dominated by the
Iroquois, or Six Nations, who from their
stronghold in Central New York, by using
the Susquehanna mainly, but also the Mo-
hawk, Hudson and Allegheny rivers, had
built up an empire big in extent and pow-
erful in kind.

Many times a year tne Iruquois in their
war canoes went down the Susquehanna to
the Chesapeake and compelled the submis-
sion of tribes as far as the Carolinas. The
Journey was apparently no more to them
than it is now to a traveler by train. They
bested the Susquehannocks so often that
they finally were able to force the rem-
nant to abandon their Maryland and Penn-
sylvania haunts and take up an humble po-
sition under the conquerors' wing in New
York. They did the same to the Lenni Le-
napes on the Delaware, to the Nanticokes
on the Eastern Shore and to the Shawnees
higher up the Susquehanna. They kept
the white man from fully settling the up-
per Susquehanna Valley for nearly a cen-
tury after the lower part was peopled by
whites.

There is no telling to what period their
remarkable confederacy might have ex-
teuded had they not adopted the British
cause against the colonists. Then the
Iroquois power was broken as quickly as
it had been formed. The terrible Wyom-
ing massacre in Susquehanna Valley and
the massacre in Cherry Valley, on a tribu-
tary of the Susquehanna, caused the ex-
pedition of Gen. John Sullivan in 1779.
He went up the river with a strong
military force and was reinforced at the
mouth of the Chemung by Gen. James
Clinton, who had brought New York
militia overland to Lake Otsego and then
down the Susquehanna on rafts. General
Sullivan burned Indian villages by the
wholesale and gave the Iroquois a thrash-
ing such as they had never had. After
that they were willing enough to sell the
fairest part of Central New York to the
whites.

The Wyoming and Cherry Valley mas-
sacres are not the only dark stains of the
sort in the Susquehanna Valley. After

12

Braddock's crushing defeat in 1755 the In-
dians, backed by French officers and sol-
diers, descended the river and spread ter-
ror in many promising Pennsylvania set-
tlements. There were massacres at a num-
ber of points near Northumberland and in
Cumberland Valley, and many more women
and children were carried into captivity in
Canada.

The remembrance of the fiendish cruel-
ties practised by the Indians led to the
most horrible crime of all, the murder in
1763 of the remnant of Susquehannock In-
dians, who had long made their homes near
where the Conestoga creek empties into
the Susquehanna in Lancaster county. A
group of frontiersmen, known as ''the Pax-
ton boys," in a wanton attack on the set-
tlement and in a later fiendish charge upon
a public building, to which the survivors
of the first affair had been removed, made
away with 20 Indians, many of them wom-
en and girls and none able-bodied war-
riors. It was a crime which cannot be
justified.

As an echo of Indian occupation, stone
weapons, utensils and implements are fre-
quently found at every point of the river
valley, many of them made from rocks
which can only be traced hundreds of miles
away. The skeletons of red men are also
sometimes unearthed, some of them of
giant type.

In addition to the Wyoming and Cherry
Valley massacres, the Susquehanna figures
in the Revolutionary War in other ways.
Its lower fords and ferries were constantly
crossed by armies and leaders going from
North to South and South to North. And
when the Continental Congress was driven
out of Philadelphia by British occupation
it removed first to York, then to Lancas-
ter, both of them on tributaries of the
river and not far from the latter.

In the contest of 1812 the mouth of the
river again had a share of war. After
terrorizing other towns at the head of
Chesapeake bay the British fleet cap-
tured and burned Havre de Grace and the
village of Lapidum, a few miles tip the
river.

13

Again in the Civil War the Susquehanna
was the "high-water mark of the Con-
federacy," Wrightsville being the nearest
point to Philadelphia reached by any part
of General Lee's army during the invasion
of Pennsylvania in 1863.

Nor should it be forgotten that this same
section played a prominent part in co-
lonial times in the border wars of Lord
Baltimore and the Penns, both struggling
to spread their boundaries. This con-
test, frequently accompanied by blood-
shed, developed a remarkable character in
Col. Thomas Cresap, who upheld the Mary-
land claims in York and Lancaster coun-
ties with such courage as to make him one
of the most interesting figures in American
colonial life.

The varying origin of the families who
peopled the different parts of the Susque-
hanna Valley is in itself a study. Quite
naturally we at once think of the Palati-
nate Germans or Pennsylvania Dutch, who
have for two centuries left the impress of
their thrift upon the rich farming lands of
lower Pennsylvania. Next below them, on
lands more rugged and rocky, were thou-
sands of Scotch-Irish families; and farther,
in Maryland, families of English and Irish
stock. In Central Pennsylvania the river
banks were cleared by persons mostly of
English origin, while from Wilkesbarre
north there was a decided preponderance
of New England immigrants, indirectly
English. To these the last half century
has added the Welsh slate-miners in the
Peach Bottom region; the Italian, Hun-
garian, Russian, Polish and other Slavonic
types in the coal mines, and the people of
still other nationalities in the growing
cities.

Besides the actual history of the Susque-
hanna, there is a wealth of interesting
legend and folklore. I wish I had time to
repeat it all.

14

III.
NOT UNSUNG BY POETS.

Cooperstown, Otsego County, N. Y.,
Aug. 17.— Yesterday I went into a book-
store to get a recent novel. The man be-
hind the counter was one of those whom a
book-lover delights to meet, one who knew
and prized the books he sold. It was easy
to get into a chat with him about the litera-
ture of the Susquehanna and the result
will, I am sure, surprise you.

Cooper's name, of course, was first on
our lips when we started to recall the
poetry and novels in which the Susque-
hanna is well remembered. Then I spoke
of Nathaniel P. Willis, most graceful of
American authors, whose happy years of
life beside this river at Owego found full
expression in his varied writings. My
friend, the bookseller, soon reminded me of
Thomas Campbell and his epic, "Gertrude
of Wyoming," while I, in turn, thought of
other Englishmen, and suggested Cole-
ridge and Southey, who, with the enthusi-
asm of youth, dreamed of placing their
ideal colony of Pantisocracy upon the
banks of the Susquehanna, which, like
Campbell, neither of them had ever seen
nor ever saw.

Wyoming's name brought to mind "The
Death of the Fratricide," in which John
Greenleaf Whittier has told in ballad form
the fate of a hapless being who killed his
own brother in the terrible Revolutionary
tragedy. An echo of another massacre is
found in "Jennie Marsh, of Cherry Valley,"
by George P. Morris, the editorial associate
and friend of Willis.

Thus we discoursed for fully an hour,
adding to our catalogue a goodly array of
notable poets and romancers. It was a
casual review, of course, and doubtless
many were omitted whom you may now re-
call. But I cannot refrain from repeating

15

lor you some of the things which then
came in mind or which we found by turn-
ing to his well-stocked shelves.

The thread which binds Southey and
Coleridge to the Susquehanna is a slender
one, but it must be acknowledged that
there is something deeply interesting in
their dream of starting upon the Susque-
hana a brotherly community where pri-
vate property was to be abolished, where
two hours a day were to be spent in pro-
viding food and the rest of the time "in
rational society and intellectual employ-
ment." Biographers of both poets tell
how the scheme was talked of in 1794,
when Coleridge was 22 and Southey two
years younger, and how it was never real-
ized because no funds were forthcoming
and because the two wedded sisters and
had to be practical enough to earn a liveli-
hood.

The reason why the Susquehanna was
selected is in doubt. The fact that Dr.
Joseph Priestley, founder of modern chem-
istry and an eminent philosopher, had re-
moved from England to Northumberland
in the same year may have had something
to do with it. But a letter from Coleridge
to Southey, written at the time, adds an-
other reason. The former, it appears, had
met in London a suave American land
agent, who recommended the Susquehanna
"from its excessive beauty and its security
from hostile Indians." The ease of farm-
ing, the opportunity for literary men, the
cheapness of land and of living and the
credit obtainable were all duly impressed
upon Coleridge, who, in his last sentence,
says: "The mosquitoes are not so bad as
our gnats; and after you have been there
a little while, they don't trouble you
much." Truly a most excellent land agent!
Joseph Cottle, the British bookseller,
whose after reminiscences add so much to
the knowledge of his friends Coleridge and
Southey, gives still more light. He says
Coleridge would talk for hours at a time
of the Susquehanna as "the only refuge
for permanent repose." Then Cottle adds:

It will excite marvelous surprise in the reader to
understand that Mr. Coleridge's friends could not as-
certain that he had received any specific informa-
tion concerning this notable river. "It was a

16

I

grand river," but there are many other noble and
grand rivers in America (the Land of Rivers!), and
the preference given to the Susquehanna seemed
almost to arise solely from its imposing name,
which, if not classical, was at least poetical, and
it probably by mere accident became the centre of
all his pleasurable associations. Had this same
river been called the Miramichi or the Irrawaddy
it would have been despoiled of half its charms
and have sunk down into a vulgar stream, the at-
mosphere of which might have suited well enough
Russian boors, but which would have been pestifer-
ous to men of letters.

Cottle also quotes Coleridge's poem, "A
Monody to Chatterton," written when
Pantisoeraey was on tap. In it, after
speaking of his vain aspirations for abso-
lute liberty, he says:

Yet will I love to follow the sweet dream
Where Susquehanna pours his untamed stream;
And on some hill, whose forest-growing side
Waves o'er the murmurs of his calmer tide.

It is so usual here in Cooperstown to
hear of "The Deerslayer" as associated
with Otsego Lake that it is rarely remem-
bered that other novels by Cooper depict
later phases of life on the lake and river.
Deerslayer is such an ideal of chivalresque
manhood and the descriptions of the re-
gion, then In the primeval wilderness, are
so fine, that the first of the Leatherstock-
!ng Tales overtops the novelist's other In-
dian stories. But in "The. Pioneers, or the
Sources of the Susquehanna," Cooper drew
upon the early recollections of his life and
has described with minuteness affairs in-
cident to the settlement of the region by
his father, who figures in the novel as
Judge Temple. It is an animated presen-
tation of the vigorous and picturesque
country life of its time and place and is
equally successful in its delineations of
natural scenery. Then in "Home as Found"
we are introduced to the descendants of
the characters of '"The Pioneers" and to
Cooperstown about 1835. In its day it was
most unpopular for its criticisms of Amer-
ican faults as seen by one who had dwelt
abroad for some years, and it is unfortu-
nate also in being made the vehicle for
an account of a squabble between Cooper
and his townspeople. In "Wyandotte, or

17

the Hutted Knoll," Cooper again returns
to the Otsego. It narrates the settlement
of an English family in the vicinity of
the lake about the commencement of the
Revolution, and abounds in quiet scenes of
sylvan beauty and incidents of a calmer
character than are usual in Cooper's fic-
tions.

The associations of Cooper with this
pretty lake are well expressed in verse in
a short anonymous poem which Henry W.
Longfellow thought worthy of a page in
his anthology, "Poems of Places." Some
of its stanzas are as follows:

O haunted lake, from out whose silver fountains
The mighty Susquehanna takes its rise;

O haunted lake, among the pineclad mountains,
Forever smiling upward to the skies.

A master's hand hath painted all thy beauties;

A master's hand hath peopled all thy shore
With wraiths of mighty hunters and fair maidens,

A master's heart hath gilded all thy valley
With golden splendor from a loving breast,

And in thy little churchyard, 'neath the pine trees,
A master's body sleeps in quiet rest.

Cooper's daughter, Susan Fenimore, who
died here but a few years ago, inherited
her father's love for Otsego and the Sus-
quehanna, and in "Rural Homes," which
was published in the year before her father
died, she charmingly and without extrava-
gances described the scenery around her
home in Cooperstown. She is the author of
other works showing her appreciation of
country life. In Cooperstown she is
esteemed for her charities.

The happy touch of Willis rechristened
and made famous so many spots in the
Highlands of the Hudson that "Idlewild"
is more known as his home than "Glen-
mary," near the Susquehanna. Yet some
of the happiest years of his life were spent
on the little place near Owego, which he
poetically named for his wife. "Al Abri,
or Letters From Under a Bridge," gives us
an intimate sympathy with him at "Glen-
inary," and contains descriptions of that
portion of the Susquehanna which are writ-
ten in his most graceful vein. He finds ma-
terial where others would see nothing, and

18

so we get wonderfully interested in the
little brook and the venerable toad and a
dozen places and creatures that to others
would seem commonplace. Similar delicate
fancies characterize his petition "To the
Unknown Purchaser and Next Occupant of
Glenmary," written when financial troubles
compelled him to return to New York and
buckle down to steady labor. On the other
hand, his "Revery at Glenmary" is the
most sincerely devout of all his religious
poems, while others of this kind, "A
Thought Over a Cradle," "A Mother fo
Her Child," "Thoughts While Making the
Grave of a Newborn Child," let us see the
sacreduess of his domestic life at Owego.

The neighborhood of Owego is also re-
flected in various short poems by William
Henry Cuyler Hosiner, who is, perhaps,
better known as the poet of the Genesee
than of the Susquehanna. "A Voice From
Glenmary" is a tribute to the memory of
the first Mrs. Willis. Other poems by him
which I noticed were: "Fir-Croft," "The
Deserted Hall," "Lament for Sa-sa-na,"
"A Hunting Song," "A Cascade Near
Wyoming" and "Lake Wyalusing."

The satirical genius of James K. Paul-
ding links him to the Susquehanna in a
peculiar way. In 1813. when Admiral
Cockburn and his British fleet burned and
sacked the Maryland village of Havre de
Grace, at the mouth of the Susquehanna.
Paulding published "The Lay of the Scot-
tish Fiddle," supposed to be written by
Walter Scott. It is a free parody of the
"Lay of the Last Minstrel," and is both
a satire of the Scottish poem and of the
British warfare on the Chesapeake. Some
of its descriptive bits show a close famili-
arity with the mouth of the Susquehanna.
It is clever as a parody, and had the dis-
tinction of provoking a fierce review from
the London Quarterly.

The vale of Wyoming is peculiarly rich
in its associations with literature. This is
partly due to its tragic story, partly to its
natural beauty. Many of the later poets
have been attracted to it by the "Ger-
trude" of Thomas Campbell, which, in
these days of Anglo-American ententes,
may be recalled as being a pioneer in caus-

19

ing international good feeling. These are
his familiar opening lines:

On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!

Although the wild flower on thy ruined wall
And roofless homes a sad remembrance bring

Of what thy gentle people did befall,

Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.

Sweet land! May I thy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore, "
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore.

Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies
The happy shepherd swains had naught to do

But feed their flocks on green declivities,
Or skim, perchance, the lake with light canoe.
From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew,

With timbrel, when beneath the forests brown,
The lovely maidens would the dance renew;

And aye those sunny mountains half-way down

Would echo flageolet from some romantic town.

Unfortunately Campbell never saw the
valley of Wyoming and his descriptions do
not fit it. This is noticeable in the lines
just quoted, but more so in the next
stanza, where he says you "may see the
flamingo disporting" in the Susquehanna.
The American poet, Fitz-Greene Halleck,
pointed out this defect in a poem which
he wrote when he first saw Wyoming.
Halleck says:

When thou com'st, in beauty, on my gaze, at last,

"On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!"
Image of many a dream in hours long past,

When life was in its bud and blossoming,
And waters, gushing from the fountain spring

Of pure enthusiast thought, dimmed my young eyes
As by the poet home, on unseen wing,

I breathed, in fancy, 'neath thy cloudless skies.
The summer's air, and heard her echoed harmonies.

Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power

Even of Campbell's pen hath pictured: he
Had woven, had he gazed one sunny hour

Upon thy smiling vale, its scenery
With more of truth, and made each rock and tree

Known like old friends and greeted from afar,
And there are tales of sad reality

Tn the dark legends of the border war,
With woes of deeper tint than his own Gertrude's
are.

Two women writers who are warm in
their poetic praises of Wyoming and the
Susquehanna are Mrs. Lydia Huntley
Sigourney and Mrs. Elizabeth Fries Ellet.

20

Mrs. Sigourney wrote several poems about
Wyoming. "Zinzendorff," one of her long-
est, tells the story of that noble Moravian's
visit to the Indians there. "The Lily" is
the story of Frances Slocum, who was car-
ried off by Indians in the Revolution and
found half a century later as the head of
an Indian family. In "The Meeting of the
Susquehanna and Lackawanna" Mrs.
Sigourney says:

Rush on, glad stream, in thy power and pride,

To claim the hand of thy promised bride ;

She doth haste from the realm of the darkened

mine
To mingle her murmured vows with thine;
Ye have met— ye have met, and the shores prolong
The liquid notes of your nuptial song.

On, on, through the vale where the brave ones sleep.

Where the waving foliage is rich and deep,

I have stood on the mountain and roamed through

the glen
To the beautiful homes of the Western men;
Yet naught in that realm of enchantment could see
So fair as the vale of Wyoming to me.

Mrs. Ellet, who is best known as the
author of a "History of Women of the
American Revolution," wrote these beauti-
ful descriptive lines:

Softly the blended light of evening rests
Upon thee, lovely stream ! Thy gentle tide,
Picturing the gorgeous beauty of the sky,
Onward, unbroken by the ruffling wind,
Majestically flows. Oh! by thy. side,
Far from the tumults and the throng of men,
And the vain cares that vex poor human life,
"fwere happiness to dwell, alone with thee,
And the wide, solemn grandeur of the scene.
From thy green shores, the mountains that inclose
In their vast sweep the beauties of the plain,
Slowly receding, toward the skies ascend,
Enrobed with clustering woods, o'er which the

smile
Of Autumn in his loveliness hath passed,
Touching the foliage with his brilliant hues,
And flinging o'er the lowliest leaf and shrub
His golden livery. On the distant heights
Soft clouds, earth-based, repose, and stretch afar
Their burnished summits in the clear, blue Heaven,
Flooded with splendor, that the dazzled eye
Turns drooping from the sight. Nature is here
Like a throned sovereign, and thy voice doth tell,
In music never silent, of her power.
Nor are thy tones unanswered, where she builds
Such monuments of regal sway.

21

Alexander Wilson, the first American
ornithologist, gained much information
about birds during a walking trip from
Philadelphia to Niagara in October, 1804.
This journey he described in a lengthy
poem, "The Foresters," which is com-
mended for the ardent love of nature there-
in revealed. He pasesd up the Susque-
hanna from Wilkesbarre to Athens, and
narrates many incidents along the way.
It has been less than a century since then,
but the valley has wonderfully changed
since he described it, as these lines of his
will show:

And now Wyomi opened on our view,
And, far beyond, the Alleghany blue,
Immensely stretched; upon the plain below
The painted roofs with gaudy colors glow,
And Susquehanna's glittering stream is seen
Winding in stately pomp through valle5Ts green.
Hail, charming river! pure, transparent flood!
Unstained by noxious swamps or choking mud;
Thundering through broken rocks in whirling foam,
Or pleased o'er beds of glittering sand to roam;
Green be thy banks, sweet forest-wandering stream;
Still may thy waves with finny treasures teem;
The silvery shad and salmon crowd thy shores,
Thy tall woods echoing to the sounding oars.
On thy swollen bosom floating piles appear,
Filled with the harvest of our rich frontier;
Thy pine-browned cliffs, thy deep romantic vales,
Where wolves now wander and the panther wails;
Where at long intervals the hut forlorn
Peeps from the verdure of embowering corn;
In future times (nor distant far the day)
Shall glow from crowded towns and villas gay;
Unnumbered keels thy deepened course divide,
And airy arches pompously bestride ;
The domes of Science and Religion rise,
And millions swarm where now a forest lies.

A fine tribute to the Susquehanna is con-
tained in Thomas Buchanan Head's "New
Pastoral," which is a series of poetic
sketches of the emigration of a family
from middle Pennsylvania to Illinois. In
it are these lines:

I have seen
In lands less free, less fair, but far more known,
The streams which flow through history, and wash
The legendary shores— and cleave in twain
Old capitals and towns, dividing oft
Great empires and estates of petty kings
And princes, whose domains full many a field,
Rustling with maize along our native West,

22

Outmeasme and might put to shame! and yet
Nor Rhine, like Bacchus crowned and reeling

through
Hi* hills— nor Danube, marred with tyranny,
His dull waves moaning on Hungarian shores—
Nor rapid Po, his opaque waters pouring
Athwart the fairest, fruitfulest, and worst
Enslaved of European lands— nor Seine,
Winding uncertain through inconstant France-
Are half so fair as thy broad stream, whose breast
Is gemmed with many isles, and whose proud name
Shall yet become among the names of rivers
A synonym of beauty— Susquehanna !

In his "Wagoner of the Alleghanies"
Read also speaks in similar strain of
Where queenly Susquehanna smiles
Proud in the grace of her thousand isles.

Praise of the Susquehanna not unlike
Mr. Read's is to be found in many sonnets
of Mr. Lloyd Mifflin, whose home is at Co-
lumbia, Pa., and who has recently attract-
ed much attention. In "My Native Stream"
he says:

To Vallambrosian valleys let them go,
To steep Sorrento, or where ilex trees
Oast their gray shadows o'er Sicilian seas;
Dream at La Conca d'Oro, catch the glow
Of sunset on the Ischian hills, and know
The blue Ionian inlets, where the breeze,
Leaving some snow-white temple's Phidian frieze,
Wafts their light shallop languorously slow.
Let me be here, far off from Zante's shore.

Where Susquehanna spreads her liquid miles,
To watch the circles from the dripping oar;
To see her halcyon dip, her eagle soar;

To drift at evening round her Indian isles,
Or dream at noon beneath the sycamore.

And in "The Susquehanna From the
Cliff," written from Chiquesaluuga Rock,
near his home, Mr. Mifflin says:

Upon Salunga's laureled brow at rest
With evening and with thee, as in a dream,
Life flows unrippled even as thy stream.

Below the islands jewel all thy breast.

The dying glories of the crimson west
Ave mirrored on thy surface till they seem
Another sunset, and we fondly deem

The splendors endless, e'en as those possessed
In youth, which sink, alas! to duller hue
As years around us darken and but few

Faint stars appear, as now appear in thee.
How softly round thy clustered rocks of blue
Thou murmurest onward ! Oh ! may we pursue

Our way as calmly to the eternal sea.

23

Mr Mifflin's home town, Columbia, was
the scene of some incidents in the excft

aom of Anglesey, whose story was firs*
introduced into fiction by Smoflett in*
"Peregrine Pickle.- and has sincTbeen re
peated in "Florence Macarthy," in Scott s
Guy Mannering," and more particularly
m Charles Reade's well-known novel ^ "The
Wandering Heir." ' xae

The boys of this generation who have a
fondness for tales of adventures have had
thelr mterest awakened in the Susquehan
na and particularly the Wyoming district
by the fiction of Edward S. Ellis a Trei '
on schoolmaster, who has written harf a
hundred stories of Indian times. One se

calledyth^2w°mP^iSinf three flumes, fs
called the 'Wyoming Series," and in an-

nesfserTe1 " X* ** "Ri™ ^ ™ld*r-
setting Same region furnishes a

Had we gone further, this letter might
be a day's job for you. Of local historians
the Susquehanna has had a hundred £££

ir^liTi Wri°m are ^oxning's S-
Col wm. AVChfPman, Charles Miner,
Col. William L. Stone, George Peck Sten
ben Jenkins, Hendrick B. Wright! StewS
Pierce and others-Dr. William H Bgll 3
Harnsburg, and J. N. Meginness, of Wil
hamsport, whose "Otzinachson" is a store-
house of West Branch Indian lore. Many
ballad writers and local versifiers might
be added, and in the domain of fiction
could be dug up many titles of historical

or TonTat ^V? bUt ^^ *»S
or none at all. So, too, one could include the

whole literature of that noble Indian U

gan beginning with his speech as reported

unon t°hTS/effer>S°n- His °*rthplacPe was
his M Hv ,SuSQUehanna,s banks and there
ms eail.v years were spent. But in what
I have quoted I am sure there is enough to
convince you that poets love the sSfquS
hanna and that this great river has not
gone unsung. oc

24

IV.

COOPER'S "GLIMMERGLASS."

Coopebstown, Otsego County, N. Y.,
Aug. 18.— If you dislike the novels of J.
Feniinore. Cooper you may find it a sorry
job to come here, for his genius made
Cooperstown classic and Cooperstown is
grateful.

We have not many of these shrines of lit-
erary men in America and for that reason
Cooperstown is rather unique. But the
European traveler can surmise just what
will be found here if he recalls his visits
to the homes of Scott, of Burns, of Shakes-
peare, of a score of other famous members
of the authors' guild.

When we came by train we were driven
down Leatherstocking street to the Feni-
rnore House. The conversation of the
others at our first meal dwelt upon the
beauties of Otsego Lake as written up by
Cooper. Upon the front porch we noticed
many delving into the pages of some one
or other of his novels, possibly reading
them over to refreshen themselves upon
the spot, but maybe secretly getting ac-
quainted for the first time in order to
join in the prevailing topic of conversa-
tion.

Leaving the hotel for a stroll east on
Main street, we observed the bookstores
displaying Cooper literature and appropri-
ate photographs, while the next-door mer-
chant was trying to attract our attention
to his souvenir china and his Cooper
spoons.

Presently we crossed Pioneer street and
a block farther turned through handsome
marble gates into a pretty park whose
centre is occupied by an exquisite statue
of Cooper's noblest Indian mounted upon
an immense bowlder of syenite. Upon this

25

spot, we were told, was Cooper's handsome
home, Otsego Hall, which was burned soon
after his death in 1851.

Passing out of the little park by its up-
per gate, a few steps farther eastward
brought us to the yard of Christ Church,
where the distinguished novelist lies buried.
I cannot exactly describe it, but some-
how or other it reminded me of the yard
of the famous edifice at Stratford, within
whose walls Shakespeare rests. The Strat-
ford church is a finer building, but this
American one has its own merit and for
picturesque surroundings is fully equal to
the other. It stands near the green banks
of the Susquehanna, as the Stratford
church does near the banks of the Avon—
but the banks of the Susquehanna are
higher and bolder and more embowered,
and it is placed in a landscape of greater
variety than that of the Avon. The
grounds about the church are shaded with
noble and venerable pines, elms and ma-
ples, and beneath them have been laid,
side by side, five generations of the Cooper
family. The novelist sleeps beside his wife
under a flat marble slab turned dark with-
in the half century.

A few feet away lies his father, William
Cooper— the founder of Cooperstown— aft-
erward judge of the county of Otsego and
its first representative in Congress. The
father was a New Jersey man who, having
acquired a large tract in the valley of the
Susquehanna and around the lower shores
of the lake, came here in 1786 to reside
and to improve his land. It was then a
wilderness, still echoing the red man's
tread and dwelt in by but few white men.
An occasional trapper or colonial soldier
had strayed this way. Then in 1779 Gen.
James Clinton brought his army here to go
down the Susquehanna to join General
Sullivan. And in 1783 Washington made a
special trip here from the Mohawk Valley
to study the possibilities of the Susque-
hanna for inland navigation.

The place which Judge Cooper founded
early became the centre of a circle of cul-
tivated and refined men and women, such
as is rarely found in a village of its size.
It has retained that tone through the cen-

26

tury and has added to it greatly in recent
years by becoming an attractive summer
resting place for city dwellers of wealth
and culture. Many such have their homes
here in these months and many others
yearly rent cottages in order to find sweet
retreat in a village beautiful for situation,
healthy because high, pretty in its out-
ward evidences, possessing historic inter-
est, yet not ultra-fashionable nor "'loud"
and stylish.

Next to Cooper's, the name most often
heard here is that of Clark, or Clarke.
The upper eastern end of Otsego's shores
has been for a century a part of the big
estate of a family of the latter mode of
spelling, while the millions made by a resi-
dent who spelt his name without the "e"
have been generously used to promote the
welfare and attractiveness of Cooperstown
in many ways. The pretty park on the
site of Cooper's home and its beautiful cen-
tre statue are both a memorial to Cooper
from Mrs. Alfred Corning Clark, whose
handsome home is near by and who has also
erected a series of fine gray stone buildings
in front of the park. The most striking
of these has been donated as a village li-
brary, another as a home and gymnasium
for the Y. M. C. A., while the third con-
tains the offices of the Clark estate. The
father of Mrs. Clark's dead husband was
Edward Clark, who made his fortune by a
sewing machine invention.

A minute's walk from Christ Church
yard and we were beside the Susquehanna.
Though only a few hundred feet from its
beginning the bends and overhanging
trees jealously hid the lake from us. As
we stopped a short while admiring the
placid beauty of the little stream that is
destined to large things ere it loses its
identity, I could not help recalling what
Willis wrote after he had stood there in
the same admiring frame of mind. "The
Susquehanna breaks out of the lake just
at Cooper's door," he said, "and it is a
magnificent river as his is a magnificent
mind. As a twin-fountain head of intellect
that honors the country and waters that
fertilize it, it is a spot that has a good
right to be famous."

27

Presently we were upon the shores of
the lake. We have been in Cooperstown
for several days now and have taken every
opportunity to see Cooper's "Glimmer-
glass" from its many vantage points, but,
though it has been intensified, I do not
think I shall ever quite forget the beauty
of the lake as I first saw it. It is a body
of deep, clear blue water, about nine miles
long and from three-quarters of a mile
to two miles wide, extending from north
to south and lying between rather abrupt
and densely wooded low mountains on
the east and gently sloping beautiful and
gracefully rounded hills on the west. The
almost unbroken forest of the eastern side
offers combinations of color rarely equaled
for beauty and variety and wonderfully
heightened on this first view by the gold
and red of the sinking sun. The west side's
easier slopes were covered with a variety
of farm crops, richly cultivated fields,
meadows and pastures, among which are
quiet farmhouses and more costly summer
homes, forming in all a scene of great pas-
toral beauty.

The north end of the lake bends to the
west, and it was not possible to see the
head, but in its stead we had a beautiful
view of the bold wooded mountain which
from its outline is often called "the Sleep-
ing Lion," but whose true name is Mount
Wellington, after a certain "Iron Duke."

Nearer at hand, on the east side, is a
peculiar structure rising out of the water,
apparently a stone lighthouse built regard-
less of expense. This is "Kingfisher
Tower," designed like a mediaeval castle
and erected to a height of 60 feet. Its
main windows are brilliant with stained
glass, its roof glistens with red earthen
tiles and on its land side is a drawbridge
and portcullis. This odd "view-structure"
was put up in 1876 by the late Edward
Clark.

A cleared spot on the mountain side
above Kingfisher Tower was the farm of
Fenimore Cooper, "The Chalet," where he
daily rode or walked to seek relaxation
from mental labors by directing its tillage.
Nearer to Cooperstown on the same side is
Lakewood Cemetery, in which there is a

28

monument to Cooper, a slender marble
shaft surmounted by a statuette of
"Leatherstocking," in which the old
"scout," clad in a hunting shirt, with deer-
skin cap and leggins, leans on his long rifle
and looks wistfully across the Otsego over
the hills toward the West. His dog, "Hec-
tor," is at his feet, looking up into the
old hunter's face. The monument has va-
rious emblems illustrative of Cooper's In-
dian and sea novels.

You will recall Cooper's loving description
of the lake in the first chapter of "The Deer-
slayer." It is often quoted in full by later
writers who describe their visits here. It
was, in Deerslayer's day, "a broad sheet
of water, so placid and limpid that it re-
sembled a bed of the pure mountain at-
mosphere compressed into a setting of
bills and woods." Its most striking pecu-
liarities "were its solemn solitude and
sweet repose." "On all sides, wherever
the eye turned, nothing met it but the
mirror-like surface of the lake, the placid
view of heaven, and the dense setting of
woods. So rich and fleecy were the out-
lines of the forest that scarce an opening
cotild be seen, the whole visible earth,
from the rounded mountain top to the
water's edge, presenting one unvaried line
of unbroken verdure."

It is easy for me now to comprehend the
delight of Deerslayer when he first viewed
this "glorious picture of affluent forest
grandeur relieved by the beautiful variety
afforded by the presence of so broad an ex-
panse of water." And we feel satisfied,
too, at the appropriateness of the name
"Glimmerglass" when we gaze upon "the
surface as smooth as glass and as limpid
as pure air, throwing back the mountains,
clothed in dark pines, along the whole of
its eastern boundary, the points thrusting
forward their trees even to nearly hori-
zontal lines, while the bays are glittering
through an occasional arch beneath, left
by a vault fretted with branches and
leaves."

Not only do we admire the lake when
its surface is so mirror-like that it reflects
the pines "as if it would throw back the
hills that hang over it." For with the rip-

29

pies come new beauties, new brilliancies
of coloring, wonderful tints, a sheen not
single, but made of many pure colors.

For quiet beauty, for picturesqueness of
form and outline, for charming atmos
pheric effects, this highland lake is often
truly compared to the famous lakes of Eu-
rope. It can lay no claim to grandeur, as
the novelist's daughter.. Miss Susan Feni-
more Cooper, has written, "yet there is
harmony in the different parts of the pic-
ture, which gives it much merit and which
must always excite a lively feeling of
pleasure. The hills are a charming setting
for the lake at their feet, neither so lofty
as to belittle the sheet of water, nor so
low as to be tame and commonplace; there
is abundance of wood on their swelling
ridges to give the charm of forest scenery,
enough of tillage to add the varied in-
terest of cultivation; the lake with its
clear, placid waters lies gracefully beneath
the mountains, flowing here into a quiet
little bay, there skirting a wooded point,
filling its ample basin, without encroaching
on its banks by a rood of marsh or bog."

Around the whole the pen of Cooper has
thrown a halo of romance of such power
and such exactitude in description that
when you begin by picking out the sites
of the different incidents of "The Deer-
slayer," you end by forgetting that the
characters never lived and invest the spots
with a real historic interest. Every little
point has been portrayed with a wealth of
detail that makes the story as real as the
place itself. The brain of the novelist was
most cunning with the spots he had loved
and cherished from boyhood.

As we rode up the lake on one of its lit-
tle steamers, with Mount Vision on our
right, Hannah's Hill opposite, Mount Wel-
lington ahead and round Council Rock be-
hind at the Susquehanna's start, we
seemed to see Natty Bumppo's skiff glid-
ing along with caution for fear of hostile
redskins: to hear Hurry Harry's voice; to
catch a glimpse of brilliant, handsome,
willful Judith, her gentler sister Hetty,
and the wise, brave, true-minded Deer-
slayer. Incident after incident of Cooper's
novels came to mind and we looked with

30

eagerness for Leatherstocking's cave, on
Mount Vision, where Chingachgook died;
for Rat Cove, for Point Judith, for Leath-
erstoeking Falls, for Wild Rose Point,
where many exciting incidents were lo-
cated; for Gravelly Point, where Deer-
slayer killed his first Indian; for the canyon
on Five-Mile Point, where he hid \mder a
fallen tree from 40 Indians; for Hutter's
Point, where he first viewed the "Gliin-
merglass," and finally for the shoal spot
supposed to be the site of the sunken is-
land where Hutter and his daughters had
dwelt in Muskrat Castle.

Thus to the pleasure of a ride upon a
beautiful lake was added the charm of
tracing the scenes of a great work of fic-
tion. The boat passed by various costly
country homes and stopped at many little
landings in front of cottages peopled with
outing parties. This part of the trip
formed still another kind of diversion.
Years ago Cooper predicted that Otsego
would become a favorite summer resort. It
seems to have come true.

Chance gave us the opportunity of seeing
Otsego in another way \ipon the same day.
In the morning our boat ride was taken, in
the afternoon we drove around the lake—
a rare pleasure. A constant succession of
lovely vistas was encountered — but the
finest part of the drive was in the long
stretch of winding road beneath overarch-
ing trees, which afforded a delightful
sense of seclusion. It was the capstone
of our edifice of charming memories of the
"Glimmerglass." T shall ever love Cooper
the more for having introduced this lake
to fame, and to me.

31

V.

TWO MODERN EXPLORERS.

Richfield Springs, Otsego County, N.
Y., Aug. 19.— Yesterday, when we were sit-
ting on the porch of the Fenimore House,
at Cooperstown, I said to my wife:

"How wouid you like to be an explorer?"

"I am willing," was her reply; "but is
there anything left for us to discover?"

"Come with me tomorrow," I remarked
mysteriously.

That is how we happen to be here at
Richfield Springs today.

I can already hear you remarking that
Richfield is not an unknown land, and that
thousands and thousands have been here
before me. That attitude is because I
have not explained myself. Maybe when
I get through you will be willing to rank
me with Stanley and Peary and a few
other men of equal renown. Maybe not.
That is for you to decide.

You see, it all came about in this way:
The geographers and the cyclopsedists in-
variably tell you that the Susquehanna
has its source in Otsego lake. I wasn't
satisfied with that. "Why not get farther
back?" said I to myself. Not that I wished
to rob Cooper's beautiful lake of any of
its glory. I admire it too greatly. But I
was coached in school by a professor who
was a great stickler for all the facts, and
;is my purpose is to tell everything about
the Susquehanna, I determined to go on a
hunt for the Susquehanna's farthest head-
waters.

The other day, when we drove all the
way around Otsego, we crossed several
brooks that evidently emptied into the
lake. "Possibly their source may be what
I aim to find," said I to myself. So, when
we returned to Cooperstown, I hunted up
a detailed map of this region, and from

32

that map I made various deductions, which
finally led up to our getting to Richfield to-
day.

"Queer way to be an explorer!" I can
hear you exclaim. "To have a map! The
idea!" Well, wait a bit before you again
east suspicions on my claim.

I found that three brooks of some length,
but of small size, come into the upper end
of Otsego lake. One is three miles long,
another six, the third eight. I had about
determined upon one of these streams,
when the lake which lies here below Rich-
field Springs caught my eye. It is just as
truly one of the sources of the Susque-
hanna as is its larger, more beautiful and
more romantic rival back over the hills
yonder to the east. Its outlet, Oak creek,
meets the waters from Otsego Lake four
miles below Cooperstown. It is not much
of a meeting, because the Susquehanna is
small and Oak creek smaller still.

Oak Creek is nearly if not quite fourteen
miles long from Richfield's lake. The lat-
ter, formerly known as Schuyler's lake
from an early settler, but now repossessing
its Indian name of Canadarago — is four
miles long. Into its upper end, after flow-
ing through the village of Richfield
Springs, comes a stream whose length is
eight miles, called Ocquionis by the In-
dians and Fish creek by the whites.

If you will add up my figures, reader, and
compare them, you will see that the source
of Fish creek is the farthest headwater oi
the Susquehanna. And you will begin to
understand why two modern explorers
drove today from Cooperstown to Rich-
field and beyond. And why I feel a bit
tickled at the idea of having added more
than twenty miles to the generally ac-
cepted length of the Susquehanna. Of
course, carping critics would raise a "hue
and cry," but what care I, serene in my
own conceit.

We found the springs which give rise to
Fish creek in a high, hilly country north
of Richfield toward the beautiful Mo-
hawk Valley. In fact, a mile or two beyond
there was a fine outlook. There was the
dividing ridge. The rainwater which

33

falls at one place passes into the Mohawk
and so into the Hudson. The rain not
far away reaches the Chesapeake by way
of the Susquehanna. Those old maxims
about "small beginnings" came into our
minds as we realized just where we were.
From there the mouth of the Susquehanna
was nearly 450 miles away. By that route
it was nearly 700 miles to the ocean. By
the Mohawk 200 miles would bring the
chance raindrop to the great sea. It is fan-
ciful, I know, but I almost endowed the
drops with feeling and felt pity for them
that half should be borne by Nature's
chance so far from their brothers.

A more odd evidence of this "parting of
the waters" is found in Summit lake,
which is four miles north of Otsego lake.
In ordinary times it's outlet is one of
the brooks which I have mentioned as flow-
ing into Otsego. But in high water
another outlet carries half of it north into
the Mohawk.

The drive along Fish creek is one of the
many popular ones in the neighborhood of
Richfield. The stream runs between good
hills, and is very generally bordered by
steep banks. Two fine estates are reached
by this drive— "Cullen wood," the home of
Col. William Cullen Crain, and the Cruger
Mansion, a fine antique stone structure
overlooking the Mohawk Valley, and origi-
nally the manor house of an estate of 26,-
000 acres. Jordanville is the name of a
little hamlet near the spot where Fish
creek begins. This, by the way, is in an-
other shire than Otsego, for Warren town-
ship, in which Fish creek rises, is in Her-
kimer county.

It is a rather curious fact that, before the
days of dams and other artificial obstruc-
tions in the Susquehanna, shad in the
spring actually reached Fish creek from
the Chesapeake and were caught in abun-
dance in these waters. In fact, lamenta-
tions over the loss of the shad are common
among the old inhabitants of the entire
Upper Susquehanna.

The country about Richfield Springs is
certainly a diversified one, with many hills
of varied heights and quite a series of little
lakes and blue ponds. We had a splendid

34

opportunity to grasp this fact this morn-
ing, for, on our drive from Cooperstown,
we climbed Mount Otsego and there had a
beautiful panoramic view. Once this high
summit was called Rum Hill, but that
phase of culture and progress which gets
in its work on ugly and queer names was
successful here. The summit is 2,800 feet
above sea level and 1,600 feet above the
level of Otsego lake. It is easily the
highest point in this region, and for that
reason the observatory which lifts its head
above the trees on the mountain crest has
the advantage of being able to command
an extensive view in every direction. I
honestly deem it one of the finest out'ook
points I have ever visited, though it has its
limitations, as we discovered when we
tried to rind Cooperstown, which we had
left six miles behind, or Richfield Springs,
which lay the same distance northwest.
Both were hidden behind the ridges of
jealous hills. This was the more notice-
able because almost the whole length of
Otsego lake reflected blue far beneath us.
Northward the Adirondacks were clearly
seen. To the northeast the Green Moun-
tains of Vermont were dimmer. So, too,
were the hills of Western Massachusetts.
To the southeast the Catskills were plain.
A ridge of the Alleghanies limned the hori-
zon on the south, while on the west and
northwest it was bounded by the hills of
Chenango, Madison and Oneida counties.
The two great mountain ranges of this
State and that of another State were thus
revealed, 60 to 80 miles away. The highest
peaks of the Adirondacks were easily
picked out.

We were much amused by the grandilo-
quence of a man whom I may with pro-
priety call the "view-expounder." We
reached the top some minutes before him
and thus had an opportunity to drink in
the wonderful panorama before he broke in
upon us. His first statement was that "the
view from Mount Otsego comprehended
9 States and 40 counties." Then, with
a general sweep of his hand, he indicated
"the whole course of the Hudson, from the
Adirondacks to New York city." Then he
pointed out the "Alleghanies down inPenn-

35

sylvania," and presently, taking up a poor
field glass, he picked out some forest fires
in the Adirondacks. It was kind of him to
thus retail an item which had been in yes-
terday's papers, but unfortunately for his
veracity these fires were upon the north
side of the Adirondacks, fully 200 miles
away.

Every minute I expected him to point out
Canada, or Boston, or the monument at
Washington. But he refrained.

Richfield, of course, is famous for its sul-
phur springs, which are considered the
strongest in this country. I echoed the idea
when we entered the front room of the
elaborate series of bathhouses. In a foun-
tain in the centre the waters are made to
bubble and sparkle until they really look
tempting, but the odor of the place prompt-
ly reminded me of a story of a countryman
who was passing here when this spriug was
being uncovered and enlarged, 80 years ago.
Smallpox was prevalent in the neighbor-
hood, and when the farmer got a good
whiff of the bad-egg odor, he whipped up
his horse and with a groan exclaimed: "Oh,
God; I've ketched it!"

Sitting in the trim little park in front of
the bathing establishment and opposite the
leading hotel, the Earlington, I could not
avoid contrasting the past and present of
Richfield. The springs were noted for their
healing qualities among the Mohawk In-
dians, but it was not until 1820 that a
young physician thought of booming the
place as an invalid resort. Boarders came
at $1.25 a week, and were then merely
"outlanders" in a rich cheese-making coun-
try.

Today living costs 20 times the sum
named, and Richfield is famous and fash-
ionable, its popularity largely due to the
favor of that section of the "smart set"
which prefers an inland watering place
more select thau Saratoga. Its chief ave-
nue is lined with hotels. There are in and
near the town the summer homes of many
wealthy folk. Golf links have made de-
mands upon near-by fields. East Indian
gymkhana races and a horse show hold
forth at the fair grounds. Wheelmen and
wheel women spin around Lake Canadar-

36

ago. Tallyhos and stylish traps dispute
the roads with them and with those in
the saddle. An orchestra plays many num-
bers daily at the Earlington, and in other
ways it is evident that wealth and ele-
gance dominate, at least in the summer.

Yet with all this, the farmer has not
been elbowed out. His hay wagon or his
carryall jogs in review past the Earliug-
ton's porch parties side by side with the
fine coach or drag, while his hopfields and
his cornfields are set over against the mil-
lionaire's lawn or handsome home. In-
deed, you are hardly out of sight of the
hotels before you are in a land of farm-
workers.

I might enjoy life here at Richfield were
I a cottager, but I am not so sure about
an extended stay at the hotels. The waters
are so widely praised as of value in cases
of rheumatism, gout, neuralgia and dis-
eases of the blood and liver that many evi-
dent sufferers are here. Even though they
may be of one's own set and warm friends,
their presence, it seems to me, cannot
help but act as a damper upon the gen-
eral gayety.

The bathing establishment affords an in-
teresting study of the approved methods of
treating these health seekers. There are
pulverization, inhalation, douche, vapor
and massage rooms, Turkish and Russian
baths, sun baths, electric baths and a
large swimming pool of sulphur water. So
that, if you choose, you can get saturated
with sulphur externally and internally be-
fore you leave.

If you have a woman friend whom you
have reason to believe employs artificial
aids in her toilet, advise her to stay away
from Richfield. Sulphur, you know, oxi-
dizes metallic cosmetics and the appear-
ance of the cheeks under such circum-
stances is scarcely beautiful. Similar
tricks are played with one's jewelry.

The estate of the late Cyrus H. McCor-
mick, of Chicago, who made millions by
inventing agricultural implements, is on
the eastern slope of Sunset Hill, north of
the town. Richard Croker has a stock farm
near here, on which his family have been
dwelling this summer while the Tammany

37

leader has been abroad or busy in fixing up
political slates.

Lake Canadarago is a favorite place for
drives, canoe and steamboat trips and fish
and game suppers. It is a pretty sheet,
though not to be compared with Otsego.
In the centre is a wooded island. A legend
saith that a corresponding island once
stood a short distance away, but that the
wrath of the Almighty suddenly sank it be-
cause a Mohawk healing prophet who
dwelt on it became so puffed with pride as
to proclaim himself the "twin brother of
the Great Spirit."

I have spoken of the drives to Cullen-
wood, to Lake Canadarago and to Mount
Otsego, but have said not a word of one
of the most noted— that to the east past
two pretty little "Twin Lakes," through
the village of Springfield, at the head of
Otsego Lake, over into the historic Cherry
Valley and on beyond for seven miles to
Sharon Springs. The road followed is the
old State turnpike to Albany from the
western counties. To Cherry Valley is 15
miles. Prom Cooperstown to Cherry Val-
ley is about the same distance.

Sharon is a watering place whose glory
as a summer resort has given way to popu-
larity as a sanitarium. It has sulphur
springs like those of Richfield, and also
chalybeate and magnesia springs. It has
all the water-cure treatments in vogue at
Richfield and, in addition, one may take
mud baths, pine needle baths and the Fa-
ther Kneipp cure. These people the hotels
with invalids. Formerly Sharon was a fa-
vorite place for wealthy German and He-
brew citizens and was known as "the
Baden-Baden of America."

Half way between Sharon and Cherry
Valley the road passes around the north or
outer side of Prospect Mountain, and we
got grand valley views. The Mohawk Val-
ley lay spread out 1,700 feet beneath us
for an east and west distance of fully 80
miles, shut in on the north by the Adiron-
dacks. It was a panorama different from
that of Mount Otsego, yet equally fine.

I never think of Cherry Valley without
recalling the delicate compliment of Willis
when he said it was "La Vallee Cherie." It

38

is, indeed, a pretty and romantically sit-
uated valley, famed for the terrible mas-
sacre on November 11, 1778, when Joseph
Bryant and his Indians with fire and the
tomahawk spread ruin and desolation
through the infant settlement, killing in
all 48 persons, many of them women and
children. In the village cemetery the
bones of the slain were later collected and
there a small monument has been erected
to their memory. In the centre of the vil-
lage is another monument, put up to recall
those of Cherry Valley who died, in the
Civil War.

Cherry Valley was the first settlement
in this whole region. It was started in
1740 by John Lindesay. a Scotch gentle-
man of some fortune. In the first half of
this century it was noted in New York
State as the residence of a coterie of fa-
mous lawyers and politicians. Prof. Sam-
uel F. B. Morse worked out much about his
telegraph here. The late Douglas Camp-
bell the historian, was born here. Rev.
Solomon Spalding, reputed author of the
"Book of Mormon," and Rev. Ehphalet
Nott, the distinguished president of Union
College, were among the early principals
of Cherry Valley Academy.

Two miles north of the village is Te-ka-
ha-ra-nea falls, where a small brook falls
160 feet Cherry Valley White Sulphur
Springs are not far away. Cherry Valley
creek, after a southwest course of 16
miles, contributes its mite to the Susque-
hanna. ! .

Our little excursions in this region are
ended now. Tomorrow morning we return
to Cooperstown to start down the Susque-
hanna.

VI.

THRO' THE HOP COUNTRY.

Afton, Chenango County, N. Y., Aug.
20. — Before our departure from Coopers-
town today a last visit was paid to the be-
ginning of the Susquehanna, where the wa-
ters of Lake Otsego glide into the narrow
channel which by and by expands to be-
come a mighty river.

So pretty was the spot that we were
loath to leave it, though imagining well
how much awaited us in the next 400
miles. Standing long on the bridge which
is thrown across the stream a couple, of
hundred feet from the lake, we gazed down
upon as pretty a brook vista as can be seen
anywhere. Leafy trees and bushes over-
hung the water in profusion, and some
grew quite in midstream, with their roots
clinging to mossy rocks. The water was so
calm and clear as to reveal, with the aid
of a friendly sun, the charms of the river
bottom, and the stream seemed to us to
have a mood akin to ours, unwilling to
leave the "Glimmerglass" for an onward
hurry to the Chesapeake. The whole scene
was one of sylvan quiet, especially appre-
ciated by most visitors because only a
minute's walk from the noise of Coopers-
town's main street.

The river has the same placid beauty
here at Afton, 54 miles below Coopers-
town. We saw it grow as we traveled with
it, saw it gradually spread from a width of
40 feet to- one of 300 feet. Yet, though it
has frequently been stirred up by dams and
millraces, and has received the waters of
various turbulent and noisy brooks, it still
seems content to be serene on a summer
day and passes quietly beneath the white
suspension bridge which is but a short walk
from the centre of this pretty village. Prom

40

the bridge the banks present the same pic-
ture of overhanging trees as at Coopers-
town, though the wider river substitutes a
lake background for the brook vista up
above.

The river valley from Cooperstown has
the same characteristics as the stream it-
self. Hemmed in by high uplands on each
side, it offered us a series of peaceful,
pleasing scenes. The high, bounding hills
leave an intervale of a mile to a mile and
a half. The hillsides have been largely al-
lowed to remain wooded, but often tracts
have been "cleared" for crops or cattle, and
we saw many cows browsing in the midst
of tree stumps far above the river. The rich
lands on the levels adjoining the river
banks showed fine crops, and the general
well-being of the farmers was evidenced
by their neat homes and filled barns. The
whole region is noted for its dairying and
stock raising rather than for its farm
products.

A succession of just such pretty villages
as Afton broke in upon the farm scenery
and made interesting stopping points for
our train. Streets with arching trees gave
glimpses of well-ordered lawns and pretty
homes. Some of the latter showed us
where modern ideas had brought in the
Queen Anne type of dwelling, but mostly
they were of the two-storied, comfortable-
looking type general in Central New York,
usually painted white, with green blinds.

These villages occurred with regularity
every three or four miles— Milford, Port-
landville, Colliersville, Oneonta, Otego,
Wells Bridge, Unadilla, Sidney, Bain-
bridge and Afton. They all have flour-
mills, sawmills and small factories and are
all typical villages save Oneonta and Sid-
ney. These two have been pushed ahead
by railroad industry, the former decidedly
more than the latter.

Two railroads link these various Susque-
hanna villages and towns, and have con-
tributed largely to their growth in the last
30 years. From Cooperstown to Colliers-
ville, 16 miles, we were carried by the
Cooperstown and Charlotte Valley Rail-
road, a small road whose building was due
to the former progressive spirit of Coop-

41

erstown citizens. Then we met the Al-
bany and Susquehanna division of the Del-
aware and Hudson Railroad, which strikes
the Susquehanna at Colliersville, where
the river bends to the southwest, and runs
with the river to Nineveh, below Afton,
where it aims across to Binghamton. It
is part of a short through route from Bos-
ton to the West, and has frequent "flyers"
and fast trains. Its course is mainly on
the west bank of the river.

The trip from Cooperstown as far as
Oneonta was emphatically a journey
through the hop country. This is the hop-
picking season and the groups at work
amid myriads of tall poles added zest to
our sightseeing. Sometimes hundreds of
acres were given up to the picturesque
hop vines, while every farm owner along
the river had at least an acre or two.

The hopflelds were very inviting. During
the summer the green and leafy vines had
crept up the myriads of poles and across
interlacing strings until the rows before
being picked seemed like a vast festoon,
an idyllic contribution to some great har-
vest festival. They were so charming jis
to make me appreciate the spirit of the
writer who said there is "flippancy in the
name and nature of the vine, as gay and
debonair to the end it tosses its light
sprays." All of which is quite foreign to
the thought of another, a temperance mor-
alist, who turned his head away when trav-
ersing these fields and tried to avoid the
"sleepy aroma of the sun-steeped hops,"
because it made him "ashamed" that such
pretty vines should be intended for "the
base uses of the makers of beer."

Five counties here in Central New York
produce one-half of the 50,000,000 pounds
of hop used in this country or exported
abroad. Cooperstown and Oneonta are the
chief trade centres for that part of the
region around and below Lake Otsego. The
time for picking is when the tiny cones i<n
the vines lose their green and take on a
yellow tinge that distinguishes them from
the greW of the fig-like leaves. This usu-
ally occurs in the latter part of August.

Hop-picking is a season for frolic as well
as work. The hop-raiser needs much help

42

to get his crops gathered before they get
too ripe, and even if he has but one or two
acres planted with the vines, he can make
use of a score or more persons, while on
some of the larger farms as many as 1,000
or 1,200 persons find temporary employ-
ment.

Fifty years ago the country folk had the
frolic to themselves. Harvesting was over
and there was nothing to hinder the hop
fields from becoming centres of merriment
and neighborhood reunions. Nowadays the
rustic workers find themselves elbowed b3*
young men, young women or whole fami-
lies from Albany or Troy, or even from
New York. In fact, it has become as cus-
tomary for working people of those cities
to "go a hopping" at this season as for
members of another section of society to
go to seaside or mountains, and for similar
reasons — relaxation and health.

The armies of hop-pickers live in rough
barracks or tents on the farms of their
employers, often bringing their own cook-
ing utensils and bedding and having a
genuine outing. The scenes which take
place in and arotind these farm encamp-
ments recall in many ways the large truck
farms near great cities during the berry-
picking season. Many restraints are
thrown off and there is for the time being
a perfect indifference to most of the usages
and conventions of civilization. In fact,
this gypsy life has led to many grave dis-
cussions of morality and to various plans
for attempting to check the coarser ele-
ments of the frolic. Some hop-raisers have
gone to considerable expense to provide
adequate accommodations and prevent the
crowding which so often prevails in these
farm tenements. Others have laid down
stringent rules for the conduct of their
employes. I am informed, however, that
the really disreputable class is a weak mi-
nority among the hop-pickers, and is large-
ly made up of "tramps."

When the day's work is done the en-
campments are stirred with life. Many
are busy getting supper, and camp fires or
slender chimneys send up smoke against
the sunset, while the clatter of dishes is
intermingled with laughter and chaffing

43

and discussions of the day's work. When
night falls the scene is still more pic-
turesque, for the orange light of the out-
door fires adds gorgeous color tints to the
sun-browned faces. Presently the young-
er folk begin a dance, usually in a vacant
corner of the house used for drying hops.
This is kept up until an hour when it is
almost unnecessary to go to bed before be-
ginning another day's work. The side-
steps and flourishes and the style of waltz-
ing would doubtless convulse the soul
trained only in Professor So-and-So's select
academy in a big city, but the merriment
and good-nature of the dancers show how
they enjoy it.

That is one side of the picture. A day
in the fields shows the other. Men work
ahead of the pickers down the long ave-
nues of poles, cutting the vines to some
feet from the ground and loosening them
from the strings and poles, so that it will
be an easy matter for the pickers, who
work seated around boxes or bins, to get
the hops from off the vines without letting
the leaves and stems fall in. When the
boxes or bins are full they are measured,
credit given to the pickers, the hops emp-
tied into huge bags and carted off to the
drying house or kiln. Thus the whole field
is an animated scene, the different groups
vying with each other to work ahead in
their particular rows, and laughing and
chatting as they push onward, stripping the
field. To keep off the noonday sun many
sit beneath temporary canvas awnings.

A field picked over is probably a more
dispiriting sight than any other harvest-
ing picture. The poles and strings have
been stripped of festoons, hop and leaf.
The ground has been trampled down, and
on it are many withered and withering
branches and stems, torn down to pluck
the only marketable bit, and entirely ruin-
ing the charm of the field before the in-
vasion.

The hop fields were not the only places
to attract us in coming here from Coop-
ei'stown. Five miles south of Cooperstown
is Hartwick Seminary, a Lutheran theo-
logical school in a little village, with a his-
tory of 84 years. Its founder was Jobu

44

Christopher Hartwick, a native of Saxe-
Gotha, Germany, a man of much talent,
but also of much eccentricity. Coming to
this country to take charge of a Lutheran
congregation on the Hudson, he soon gave
this up and began a wandering life through
several colonies. One of the results of his
travels was his purchase from the Mo-
hawk Indians of a big tract in and around
what is now the seminary. When he died,
in 1700, he left his property for the educa-
tion of young men for the ministry. The
bequest was used privately until 1815,
when the seminary was started. The pres-
ent value of its buildings is about $30,000,
and of its endowment about $35,000, so
that its sphere is necessarily much con-
tracted.

Indian stories by the dozen are told by
those familiar with this upper portion of
the Susquehanna. Near Colliersville, for
instance, was an Indian village. Where
Schenevus creek joins the river Col. John
Harper surprised a party of Indians about
to attack his settlement of Harpersfield.
Where Charlotte river and the Susque-
hanna meet was the home of "Murphy,
scout and Indian terror," a backwoods-
man whose rifle made him a noted man.
The town of Oneonta was once the Indian
village of Onahrieton. Otego was an
Indian orchard and burial place, and half a
mile below Wells' Bridge there are still
traces of a lead mine which was worked
by the Indians.

A most important historical interest at-
taches to Sidney, or Sidney Plains, 43 miles
below Gooperstown, at the junction )f the
Unadilla river. It was, during the Revolu-
tion, the headquarters for the predatory
incursions of that noted Indian leader,
Joseph Brant, or Thayendeaga. Historians
have proven that Brant was here when he
was accused of directing the massacre at
Wyoming, and here General Herkimer Had
an important but fruitless conference with
him in July, 1777. Brant had made de-
mands for cattle and provisions upon the
infant settlement which had been begun
here in 1773 by Rev. William Johnston,
the white pioneer of the Upper Susque-
hanna. General Herkimer marched here

45

with a regiment of militia, was met by
Brant, tried to persuade him to join the
Revolutionists instead of the British, and
was refused menacingly and curtly. A
violent storm broke up the conference.

Near the town of Sidney is an old In-
dian fort, about three acres in extent, in-
closed by mounds of earth and surrounded
by a ditch.

Sidney is the point where the New York,
Ontario and Western Railroad crosses the
Susquehanna Valley. This makes the
town an important shipping centre for
freight, especially dairy products. It is
200 miles from New York city.

Oneonta is a town of rapid growth.
Thirty years ago it had 1,000 persons, now
it has 10,000. The Delaware and Hudson
Railroad has done this largely by locating
its shops here and by making it a division
headquarters where 500 trainmen start
out on their work. Many manufactures
have sprung up, among them a piano
works, and the enterprise of its business
men has won for the town a State Normal
School, housed in a large brick pile at the
west end of Maple street and now begin-
ning its eleventh year.

The town bids fair to have more op-
portunities for growth in the near future,
as it is to become the western terminus
of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad,
which runs through the heart of the
Catskills from Rondout. Its present
terminus is Bloomville, but it is expected
to be operating to Oneonta by December.
Collis P. Huntington, the railroad mag
nate, was born in Oneonta, and his
sumptuously furnished private car, Otsego,
was sidetracked at the station, as he is
now on a visit to relatives residing there.

The high hills across the river from
Otego used to be called "Johnson's Dream-
land," and it is related that an Indian
chief known as Hendricks was forced to
give them to Sir William Johnson, the
noted Indian agent, in this manner: Hen-
dricks told Sir William one day that he
had the night before dreamed that Sir
William had given him a certain flashy
suit of clothes. Sir William gave the
clothes to the chief, but in a few weeks

46

he, too, bad his dream, and he told Hen-
dricks that he had dreamed that Hendricks
had given him a deed to this tract. The
Indian grunted, signed the deed, and pres-
ently said: "Me no dream no more."

Afton and Bainbridge were both what
is known as "Vermont Sufferers' Lands,"
granted by New York to recompense those
who had vainly upheld New York's share
of the border warfare over the Green
Mountain State. Descendants of many of
the first settlers still live on the old farms.

Afton is a healthy place and has a oon-
stantly growing stream of summer visit-
ors. There are several pretty walks and
drives from the village, as we found to-
day. Four miles southeast on a stage
road to Deposit is Vallonia Springs, whose
hotel has many boarders in the "heated
term." The waters contain sulphur,
magnesia and iron, are strongly prophylac-
tic and are efficient in cutaneous diseases.
Personally we found the water much more
palatable than that at Richfield, because
less strong.

One mile north of Afton is Afton Lake,
a circular sheet of water covering about
40 acres. It has no apparent inlet or out-
let, but as it is near the Susquehanna
and 30 feet above it, it probably drains
underground into the river. Its wooded
shore is a favorite place for picnics.

Glen Afton is a pretty spot, romantic but
not requiring much exertion to sec its
beauties. It is about half a mile long,
with rocky cliffs rising from 40 to 60 feet
above a little creek. In some places one
has to step on rocks in the stream, in
others to pass along a shelf in the side of
the cliff. The creek is one which wanders
through the upper end of the village, and
is called Bump's creek, after a pioneer set-
tler.

I have always thought Afton a romantic
name, and mentally praised the Aftonians
for selecting it. But an old lady today
gave me a different story. "We used to
belong to Bainbridge," she said, "and
when we separated we determined to be
ahead on all alphabetical lists by haviug
a name beginning with an A." That's not
so romantic.

47

VII.

WHERE MORMONISM BEGAN.

BlNGHAMTON, BROOME COUNTY, N. Y.,

Aug. 22.— It is very easy for me to compre-
hend now why people fall so naturally into
the belief that the Indians named this
river Susquehanna because that meant
"long, crooked stream." We have just come
around the so-called "Great Bend."

The Delaware and Hudson Railroad,
which leaves the Susquehanna below Nine-
veh and heads for Binghamton by a more
direct path, gets here in 20 miles; while the
river, continuing southward from Nineveh,
enters Pennsylvania for a few miles, then
suddenly sweeps around to the northwest,
passes the towns of Susquehanna and
Great Bend and to reach Binghamton re-
quires 40 more miles than did the railroad
surveyors.

If you will look at any map of New York
and Pennsylvania you will see that there
are two "greater bends" than the one
which we have just traversed. After con-
tinuing west from Binghamton for forty
mikjs the Susquehanna is joined by its larg-
est tributary, the Chemung, and there tutus
sharply to the southeast, leaving New York
State for good and making for the coal
town of Pittston, where there is again a
sharp bend to the southwest, after which
the last sharp bend is made at Northum-
berland, 80 miles from Pittston. North-
umberland is the point where the West
Branch comes into the main stream and
below there the united river flows in a
general southeasterly direction past Har-
risburg and on to the Chesapeake bay.

From a point east of Binghamton across
Pennsylvania to Pittston, as the birds '
would fly, is not more than 40 miles, while
the wide western sweep of the river makes

48

its curve at least 150 miles. Again from
Athens, at the coming in of the Chemung,
south to Northumberland, at the coming in
of the West Branch, is 70 miles by air line.
By the river it is 150. These are broader
bends than the one up above here, but were
probably not as evident to the generation
which named the first.

From Afton as far as the town of Sus-
quehanna we were in a region abounding
in scenes in the early career of Joseph
Smith, the founder of Mormonism. At
Afton he attended a district school and
was later tried for fraud. At Nineveh he
held the first meetings of those whom he
had converted. Near Susquehanna was the
home of the young woman whom he mar-
ried, and in an outbuilding upon her
father's farm he "translated" the Book
of Mormon from his "golden plates."

The stories which have been handed
down concerning his operations along the
Susquehanna are not tinctured by any
reverence for him or his creed. Most of
them are centred around certain clairvoy-
ant powers which he claimed to exercise in
finding buried treasure. He operated by
means of a mysterious stone, described as
being about the size of an egg, of the
shape of a shoe, and of an irregular green
hue, with brown spots on it. This stone
he covered with his hat and held in front
of his face and in that way claimed to be
able to see things denied to others. Many
farmers in the Susquehanna Valley were
deluded into spending considerable sums in
digging for the gold which Smith pre-
tended to see, but which was never found,
either because of some "powerful enchant-
ment" or because the diggers had vio-
lated the prophet's injunction and not kept
a still tongue.

On a farm on the north side of the river
a little west of Susquehanna there is a
big hole, perhaps 20 feet deep and 150
feet in circumference. This was the chief
spot of Smith's digging, though he per-
suaded other parties to work in other
places. In this big venture he interested
Oliver Harpur, a well-known farmer of
Harpursville, N. Y. A straggling Indian

49

had told Smith, so he said, there was a
treasure buried there, and with the aid
of his "seeing stone" he so aroused Har-
pur's cupidity that the latter "put up"
liberally, and 14 men were employed to
dig, working night and day in relays.
After awhile Harpur became discouraged,
but "Joe" declared there was an enchant-
ment about the place which could only be
removed by killing a perfectly white dog
and sprinkling its blood over the ground.
A white dog could not be found, so Smith
suggested that a white sheep might do,
and the digging was continued. Of course,
nothing was found, but Smith plausibly
got out of it by saying that he was sure
the Almighty was displeased with them
for trying to palm oif a white sheep as a
white dog. When the digging stopped Har-
pur had put in all about $2,000 into this
"hole in the ground."

Not far from the scene of the digging
was the homestead of Smith's wife. Her
father was Isaac Hale, who had settled
there 'as early as 1787 and who for 50
years was noted as a hunter. Smith board-
ed at the Hale home while directing Har-
pur's digging, and not long after asked
permission to marry Emma Hale. This
was refused, but in February, 1826, the
couple eloped, and for three years there-
after Smith made his home with Hale,
much to the latter's disgust.

Shortly after his marriage Smith showed
his father-in-law a box which he said con-
tained "a wonderful book on golden
plates." He had not then, it appears, con-
ceived his subsequent statements that an
angel had appeared to him and revealed
the place where the plates were buried,
on a hill in Manchester, X. Y. He had
brought the box to Hale's home from his
former home in Palmyra, N. Y. To all
who betrayed a curiosity to see the plates
he explained that the first to look at them
should be a young child. This angered
Hale, who ordered Smith to remove the
box from his house. It is said the box
was then concealed in a woods on the
farm. In a few months Smith began to
translate the book. This was done in a

50

little building which Hale had used for
dressing deerskins. It is now the rear end
of an old farmhouse on the hillside op-
posite Susquehanna. Smith sat behind a
blanket to keep the sacred records from
profane eyes and dictated to Oliver Cow-
dery or to Martin Harris, who had come
under his influence. Harris sold his farm
to pay for the publication in 1829. This
act reduced his family to beggary and
aroused the ire of his more sensible neigh-
bors.

It was said by some that Smith read his
golden plates by his "seeing stone," held
in his hat, just as when he was looking
for buried treasure. But by others we are
first told of those wonderful spectacles,
the Urim and Thummim, transparent
stones in silver bows, said to have been
found with the plates.

Smith's first proselytes were gathered
together on the farm of one of the most
zealous of them, near the Susquehanna,
and between Nineveh and Centre Village.
The stock of Mormon bibles was kept in
a nearby barn. The credulity with which
his doctrines were received by some is
shown by testimony given in his favor
when he was arrested for fraud in Afton.
Three witnesses said they had seen him
cast out devils. They "saw a devil as
large as a woodchuck leave the man and
run across the floor like a yellow dog."

On a certain Sunday Smith announced
that he would wralk on the waters of the
Susquehanna near Nineveh. A large crowd
assembled and to the amazement of the
unbelievers the feat was accomplished.
Smith announced a second performance for
the following Sunday, started out boldly
upon the water, but suddenly went down,
to his great chagrin. A mischievous boy
had removed one of a lot of planks which
had been laid about six inches below the
surface.

With Nineveh as his headquarters Smith
continued active solicitations in various
parts of New York for a year. In Janu-
ary, 1831, directed, as he said, by revela-
tion, he led the whole body of believers
to Kirtland, Ohio, which was to be the

51

seat of the New Jerusalem. The subse-
quent development of Mormonisrn is a
part of this country's history.

When Smith and his followers became a
political and religious issue in the West,
his opponents came to the Susquehanna
Valley and revived many recollections in
order to procure affidavits showing how
Mormonism had started here. Even now
there are those weak-minded enough to
put faith in his tales of buried treasure
and within a few years diggings have
been made.

Our trip from Afton to Binghamton was
a broken one. A division of the D. and H.
Railroad carried us amid an attractive
farming country and through Nineveh,
Centre Village and Windsor to the little
village of Lanesboro, whence in a lumber-
ing stage we passed around the river's
really majestic bend and to the town of
Susquehanna. There an Erie train was
boarded for Binghamton.

The scenery about the bend is bold and
romantic. The river, prevented by hills
from continuing southward, turns around
the base of a spur of the Alleghanies. Sus-
quehanna is built upon the side of a steep
hill, so abrupt that the town is sometimes
called the "City of Stairs." On the oppo-
site side the village of Oakland is similar-
ly situated. A dozen other hills and
peaks can be seen shutting in the valley.
Most of them are steep and rugged and
some are made even more forbidding by
the exposure of their rocks through quar-
rying. Two miles to the east is Lanes-
boro, its houses quite overshadowed by the
Starucca Viaduct, a noble work of stone
masonry, built half a century ago to aid
in bringing the Erie road down into the
Susquehanna Valley from the high hills
which lie between there and the Dela-
ware. The tracks are laid upon 18 arches,
supported upon 19 piers of solid masonry
110 feet in height and extending across
Starucca creek and valley a distance of
1,200 feet. Near the viaduct an excursion
resort has been located in a pleasant grove
by the riverside, and thither the railroad
brings many picnickers. The river is beau-

52

tiful there, and its charms are more fully
set forth from a little steamer.

The town of Susquehanna— which now
has 5,000 dwellers— is an outgrowth of the
Erie road, which located immense shops
there. These shops cost nearly .$2,000,000
and occupy eight acres. When the site
was first selected, in 1848, it was a farm
whose owner had hard work to prevent
the encroachments of rattlesnakes. Today
Susquehanna is a strikingly busy railroad
centre, the great shipping point for the
coal of extreme Northeast Pennsylvania.
A dozen yard tracks parallel the main
lines for a couple of miles and thousands
of empty and loaded freight cars are upon
them. Engines puff and snort all day long
as they tug away at long trains, and black
dirt abounds.

The valley from there to Binghamton has
a rugged character, quite different from
the fertile valleys in which we had trav-
eled with the Susquehanna thus far. The
hills close in upon the river forbiddingly,
and their sides seem to say to the farmers,
"Don't dare touch me!" This warning has
been fairly well heeded. Of course, there
is the village of Great Bend and several
hamlets, but they are in favored spots.

The vicinity of Windsor village abounds
in Indian memories. The rugged mountains
on both sides of the river are known as
Oquago or Ouaquaga. (There are 50 ways
of spelling it.) Here the Six Nations had a
village from the time they were first
known to the colonists. It was a sort of
outpost whence they could command the
approach to their stronghold from south
or southeast. A war colony was placed here
at the outbreak of the Revolution and the
spot was strongly fortified and fixed up.
When it was learned that the Indians were
collecting there in large numbers Col. John
Harper was sent by ('(ingress to try to
pacify them. He reached Oquago on Feb-
ruary 27, 1777, and had a friendly confer-
ence with the red men, who told him they
did not intend to join the British against
the colonists. Brant was not there then.
When he did come there was a different
tale to tell, for Oquago became and con-
tinued a general rendezvous for Indians

53

and Tories. Most of the invasions into the
Schoharie and Mohawk settlements, as
well as those upon the frontiers of Ulster
and Orange counties, were engineered
from Oquago.

A couple of miles below Windsor, Tusca-
rora creek recalled the interesting history
of that North Carolina tribe which, after
having been thrashed by the militia of that
colony in 1722, migrated northward and
for some reason was soon adopted into the
Iroquois confederation, making the sixth
nation. During their period of probation
the Tuscaroras were assigned a residence
almost in the big bend of the Susquehanna,
where an eye could be kept on them by
their new brothers.

The valley all through there abounds in
Indian relics and trinkets, human bones,
pits of charred corn, wigwam poles and an
immense quantity of stone clippings. On
the west side of the river piles of stones
define an Indian trail across the hills to
Binghamton.

In 1754 Rev. Gideon Hawley, a protege
of the famous Jonathan Edwards, began a
mission at Oquago under the patronage of
Sir William Johnson. Edwards had a son
of 9 years, named for himself, who had
shown much precocity in mastering the
language of the Housatonic Indians at
Stockbridge, Mass. In 1755 the boy was
sent by the father to join Hawley, that he
might also learn the Iroquois tongues and
become qualified to be a missionary among
them. Owing to the disturbances of the
French and Indian War, Hawley had to
abandon this pioneer of Indian missions,
and young Edwards returned to Stock-
bridge. He became president of Union Col-
lege.

Another noted New Englander is in a
measure identified with the Susquehanna
below Oquago, though much more of a
prominent figure in the Valley of Wyo-
ming. I refer to Col. Timothy Pickering,
who was Washington's Secretary of State.
He had large tracts of land where Lanes-
boro now is, and in 1800 he settled a son
upon them. The son aroused the ire of his
father by marrying a girl of the then back-

54

woods, but Colonel Pickering so far relent-
ed that in 1807, when the son died, he took
the widow and her little children to his
Massachusetts home. The son is buried in
Lanesboro.

North of Colonel Pickering's land and in
New York State 60,000 acres were owned
by Robert Harpur. He was an Irishman,
for some time a professor in Columbia Col-
lege and from 1780 to 1795 New York's dep-
uty Secretary of State.

In the vicinity of Great Bend there are
many localities with Indian traditions-
stories which serve to add a touch of ro-
mance to the neighborhood. About two
miles east of the village the river is quite
narrow, with high rocks on each side. The
pioneer settlers called the spot "the Paint-
ed Rocks" because high upon the face of
one of these cliffs and far above the reach
of man was the painted figure of an Indian
chief. The outlines faded with the years,
but the red remained, and people of a later
day who knew not the story of the figure
called the place "Red Rock," a name
wbich it still bears. How and when the
painting was done on a rock apparently in-
accessible has been the subject of much
mystery and conjecture.

Nearer Great Bend the old inhabitant
will point out a lot of gravel in midstream
and tell you that once there was a pretty
wooded island there, which was used by the
Indians for picnics. The brave who could
paddle most swiftly around the island was
"king of the mummers" for the day, and
all had to obey his incitements to sport.
At a later period the whites used tne spot
in the same way, but some mischievous
boys in setting fire to driftwood destroyed
the grove of trees on the island and the
latter gradually sank.

A curious adventure with Indians hap-
pened many years ago to a lad whose fa-
ther had a farm on the river's edge just
west of Great Bend. The boy was told by
his father to plow up an Indian burying
ground on the river flats. The boy obeyed
in uneasiness, imagining how he should be
tortured if discovered at this work by In-
dians. There had been none in the neigh-

55

borhood for many years, but suddenly he
heard strange guttiiral sounds from the
river and, peeping through the fringe of
bushes, saw two canoes filled with red-
skins. The fright which seized him may be
pictured. It turned out that the Indians
had been those who lived thereabouts and
had come to demand the lands lying north
of the Susquehanna and to the State line.
They claimed that this tract of land had
not been included in their sale to the
Penns, but a copy of the deed, hurriedly
procured from Harrisburg, soon proved
them wrong.

Great Bend village is set amid many high
hills. A mountain called "Manotonomee"
or "Miantonomah" is within a few hun-
dred yards. It is a part of the estate of
James T. DuBois, Consul-General to
Switzerland, who has built on it several
quaint summer cottages. The wooded slope
also affords a site for the home and studio
of D. Arthur Teed, the artist.

George Catlin, the painter who gained
fame by his Indian studies, lived in Great
Bend in youth. In fact, his earlier years
are closely identified with the Susquehan-
na, for he was born at Wilkesbarre and
spent his childhood near Windsor. His bi-
ographers say that an inveterate propen-
sity for hunting and fishing found full
sway around Great Bend.

As it comes back into New York the river
makes a curve of which an early surveyor
took advantage in an original fashion. Six
farms are in a fan, their outer edges coin-
ciding with the river's curve and all com-
ing to one point upon the State line above
Great Bend.

Binghamton has surprised me. I was
here a dozen years ago, and the difference
is very similar to that which one feels
when he meets, as a beautiful creature of
18, glorious in the first flush of woman-
hood, a girl whom he last knew when she
was 15, painfully thin and consciously
awkward. For so has Binghamton grown.

56

VIII.

ALONG THE SOUTHERN TIER.

Owego, Tioga County, N. Y., Aug. 23.—
When the Susquehanna leaves Binghamton
it comes west for 40 miles in a singularly
beautiful and fertile valley.

The boundary line between New York
and Pennsylvania is but a few miles to the
south. The river gradually nears it and
finally with a curve to the left sweeps
across the border into Pennsylvania, tak-
ing its final leave of the State which gave
it birth. A short distance across the line
it is joined by the Chemung, which for
many miles has hugged the same State
boundary, though in an exactly opposite
direction to the Susquehanna, coming as
it does from Western New York and North-
ern Pennsylvania.

The people of the Empire State give the
name of the "Southern Tier" to the coun-
ties which embrace the valleys of the
Chemung and the Susquehanna— Broome,
Tioga, Chemung, and Steuben. They are
spoken of with pardonable pride, for they
are truly rich in resources and influential
in the politics and life of the State.

With the valley of the Chemung I have
naught to do, but for that portion of the
Susquehanna within the "Southern Tier"
there can be no other words than those of
praise. The country is indeed beautiful.
The valley is broad and the hills which
bound it north and south, while of fair
size, have soft slopes, terminating in wide,
table-shaped ridges. The plain between
tlie hills gives room for thousands of fine
farms and dairies, while these in turn
have made way for growing villages and
towns, of which the chief are Binghamton,
Owego and Waverly.

57

The river has by this time attained a size
where one may begin to call it majestic.
Its water is clear and sparkling and in the
sunlight has a silvery sheen, gleaming
throiigh green fringes of trees and circling
the bright islands which occasionally di-
vide the current. It is, as another has said,
"a swift river, singularly living and joyous
in its expression." There are charms about
it in this portion which make boating and
camping delightful in the summer months,
while the fishing in suitable seasons is of
no mean quality.

The graceful pen of N. P. Willis, who for
some years lived here at Owego, was long
ago devoted to praising the attractiveness
of the Susquehanna. In his "Letters Prom
Under a Bridge" he made thousands fa-
miliar with the stream, the fields, the
farms, the scenery, the natives of the
Owego of that day; he deplored the coming
of the canal and of the railroad into the
valley, and with especial fervor made pic-
turesque the life of the lumbermen who
used to float their rafts by hundreds past
his farm.

If you will pardon me, I will quote from
Willis his impressions of the Susquehanna
on his first visit. With WTilliam Henry
Bartlett, the English artist, he was pre-
paring an illustrated work on American
scenery, and of all the places visited Owego
gave the greatest delight. It is evident in
this quotation, and it was strong enough
to bring him back here to make his home.
Said Willis:

There are more romantic, wilder places than this
in the world, but none on earth more habitably
beautiful. In these broad valleys, where the grain
fields and the meadows and the sunny farms are
walled in by glorious mountain sides— not obtru-
sively near, yet, by their noble iind wondrous out-
lines, giving a perpetual and wonderful refreshment
and an hourly changing feast to the eye— in these
valleys a man's household gods yearn for an altar.
Here are mountains that to look on but once "be-
come a feeling"— a river at whose grandeur to mar-
vel—and a hundred streamlets to lace about the
heart. Here are fertile fields, nodding with grain;
a "thousand cattle" grazing on the hills— here is
assembled together in one wondrous centre a speci-
men of every most loved lineament of nature. Here
would I have a home!

58

This town of Owego has a delightful
situation. The little creek which Willis
loved breaks through the hills on the north
in such fashion as to further widen a val-
ley already broad, and it is evident how
the Indian name of Ah-wa-ga, said to mean
"Where the valley broadens," came to be
applied. The river trends to the north
side, as if eager to absorb the smaller
stream, and the town lies between the
Susquehanna and the foot of a rugged cliff
several hundred feet high.

The home of Willis is reached after a
drive of two miles to the northwest. It is
about a mile from the mouth of the creek.
The glen to which he gave his wife's name
of Mary is still there, but there have been
many changes in 60 years. The bridge un-
der which his letters were written has
given place to another of more modern and
possibly less picturesque construction.
Upon the farther side of the creek is Glen-
rnary Sanatorium, a retreat well known to
medical men and invalids. The Willis prop-
erty forms part of the Sanatorium grounds.

Owego has been the home of other fa-
mous men. Senator Thomas C. Piatt, the
noted Republican "boss," was born here
and occupied, at different times, various
residences in the town. The last, a sub-
stantial cottage, was pointed out to me on
Main street. Raphael Pumpelly, a distin-
guished American geologist, was also born
in Owego, and the Rev. Washington Glad-
den, now widely known as a preacher and
writer, set type in an Owego newspaper
office in his youth. Pumpelly's father was
an intimate friend of Willis and himself
a writer.

In Evergreen Cemetery, which is on the
hillside above Owego, there is a monument
17 feet high bearing this simple inscrip-
tion:

Sa-sa-na Loft.
By birth a daughter of the Forest.
By adoption a child of God.

Sa-sa-na was an Indian girl, who, in 1855,
with a brother and a sister, came through
the "Southern Tier," giving entertain-
ments to raise funds to translate the Bible
into the Mohawk language. She was killed
in a railroad accident at Deposit, N. Y..

59

and the friends she had made here brought
the mangled body to Owego and erected
the monument.

Another incident of former times pre-
served in Owego's annals was the reunion
by the banks of the river of a father and a
son who had been stolen in boyhood from
a town on the Hudson and had been adopt-
ed by his Indian captors and lived many
years with them in the West. The son
was brought to Owego by his adopted par-
ents, and it is said he parted from them
with much grief.

Owego in itself is an attractive place,
with pretty streets and homes. It is the
county town of Tioga county, and the
courthouse stands in a green park near the
river. There are about 5,000 inhabitants,
a goodly trade with the surrounding coun-
try, a public library with 5,000 volumes and
a number of manufactures. The town also
rejoices in a little steamboat, which runs
up the river several miles to Big Island,
which is beautifully fringed with trees, and
so makes a fine picnic spot.

You must not suppose for an instant
that Owego in any way rivals Binghamton,
which is the metropolis of this tier of
counties and which has hopes of control-
ling the trade of an even wider territory.
Binghamton's position, at the junction of
the Chenango and Susquehanna rivers, on
a plain surrounded by high hills, made it a
favored place even in the days of Indian
trails, while in later times both turnpikes
and railroads were compelled to seek the
spot. It is, therefore, an important rail-
road centre, lying on the Lackawanna and
Erie roads, from New York to Buffalo, con-
nected with Albany by the Delaware and
Hudson, with Syracuse and Oswego by an
important branch of the Lackawanna sys-
tem and with Utica by another Lacka-
wanna line which traverses the beauti-
ful valley of the Chenango. Formerly a
canal by this last route joined the Erie
Canal at Utica.

An early start was given to manufactur-
ing enterprise by the water power of both
rivers, and as this has been superseded by

60

steam, the close proximity of the Pennsyl-
vania coal fields still gives the city decid-
ed advantages. Hard coal being the fne!
used, Binghamton does not have the smoke
and dirt so characteristic of other manu-
facturing places, and for this cleanliness
has come to be known as "the Parlor
City." This is a sobriquet which to us
yesterday seemed applicable in more ways
than one. A hundred miles of streets are
for the most part broad, beautiful^ shad-
ed and lined with attractive homes and
fine business blocks. Evidences of thrift,
prosperity and a buoyant commercial con-
dition were noticed on every hand. Im-
provements of all kinds have kept pace
with the city's rise within the last 25
years; miles and miles of asphalt and brick
pavements have been laid, and a large
number of business edifices and public
buildings have been erected during a com-
paratively recent period.

Notable among these is a costly and
really handsome county courthouse, built
of a light-colored stone, which renders it
doubly attractive in its newness. It stands
on a slight knoll in the centre of a green
square in the heart of the city, and in
front of it is a monument to the soldiers of
Broome county who fell in the Civil War.
The new courthouse replaced a stone and
brick edifice of fair size, put up 40 years
ago, and in a way the change excellently
typifies the alteration of Binghamton from
a county town into a bright, modern, ac-
tive and progressive city, destined, ac-
cording to its friends, to become the chief
purveyor of the United States in certain
kinds of manufactures.

The making of cigars is the city's lead-
ing industry. Millions are invested and
several thousand hands employed. I was
told that in this trade Binghamton is now
surpassed only by New York and Key
West. There is also a large beet sugar
refinery, and manufactories of leather,
boots and shoes, combs, sewing machines,
carriages and various kinds of machinery.

The rapid growth of Binghamton may
be fancied from this statement of its popu-
lation. With less than 10,000 when it
was incorporated as a city in 1867, it

61

bad 17,000 in 1880 and in the next census
decade more than doubled itself, reaching
35,000. Possibly next year it may be 60,-
000. At any rate, it deserves such fig-
ures. The city has grown on both sides
of both rivers and, like the very modern
city it is, has developed a group of sub-
urban villages and towns which are linked
to their parent by trolley lines controlled
bj' a large street railway company.

One of the ways of gauging the inter-
est shown in Binghamton by the sur-
rounding country is the frequency of ex-
cursions to the city. In these excur-
sions a point of special attractiveness is
Ross Park, which is a tract of upward of
100 acres on the hillside south of the Sus-
quehanna, donated by Erastus Ross, a
prominent business man, who became
financially involved subsequently to his
public-spirited gift. The park possesses
pretty drives and walks, romantic ravines
and secluded woods, a herd of deer, a
menagerie and various amusements for
pleasure-seekers. From its highest points
it is possible to obtain a panorama of Bing-
hamton and vicinity, a view which is only
rivaled thereabouts by that from a tall
tower which S. Mills Ely, a wealthy whole-
sale grocer, has built on the ridge north-
west of the city, where it is a conspicuous
feature.

Forty-five years ago Binghamton was se-
lected by the New York authorities as the
site for an interesting experiment — a State
Asylum for Inebriates, where habitual
drunkards could be treated and restrained.
Friends of the plan claim that the experi-
ment was a success, but at any rate about
20 years later the buildings were converted
into a State Asylum for Chronic Insane.
They form an imposing group on a hill
two miles east and overlooking the Sus-
quehanna at a point near where the city's
Avater is obtained from the river. The
chief edifice is 365 feet long, designed in
the Tudor castellated type of architecture,
with many towers. There are 400 acres of
grounds about it.

Binghamton is also the site of the home
recently established by the National Asso-
ciation of Commercial Travelers for the

62

veterans of their class who have no other
place to rest in their declining days. The
building is nicely situated. Another of the
city's charitable institutions is the Sus-
quehanna Valley Home, which has long
guarded and educated indigent children.

In its history Binghamton has had three
names. The Indians called it O-chenang or
Otsiningo, and the first white settlers
Chenango Point. Its present name is due
to the fact that large tracts of land, in-
cluding the city's site, were owned by Wil-
liam Bingham, a prominent Philadelphia!!,
and an early Senator from Pennsylvania,
whose daughters married the famous Eng-
lish bankers.Henry Baring and his brother,
Alexander Baring, afterward Lord Ash-
burton. The first settlers, who were from
New England, had located farther up the
Chenango on the west side, but Bingham,
largely by liberality in the matter of
ground for public buildings, induced a
transfer to the tongue of land in the inter-
section of the two rivers.

In Indian times Binghamton was for
some years the site of an alliance of the
remnants of several tribes, calling them-
selves -'The Three Nations," and compris-
ing Nanticokes, from the Eastern Shore of
Maryland; Mohicans, from Connecticut,
and Shawnees, from Pennsylvania. But
the region round about was mainly in the
possession of the Tuscaroras, who, in 1785,
after a long treaty conference at Fort
Herkimer, sold it to the State of New
York. Together with a great portion of
Cenrral New York it was claimed by Mas-
sachusetts in virtue of her royal charter,
which embraeed all the territory between
44° and 48° north latitude "from sea to
sea."' Massachusetts yielded her claims at
the Hartford Convention of 178G, receiving
among other things a tract of 230,000 acres
near Binghamton, which was shortly sold
for $7,500, about 3 cents an acre.

Daniel S. Dickinson, the statesman and
lawyer, was Binghamton's most eminent
citizen. He died there in his rural home,
called "The Orchard," and is buried in
Spring Grove Cemetery, which is in the
northwestern suburbs. The New York
State Bar Association erected a monument.

63

over his grave. Porl Dickinson, a suburb,
was named for him.

Many villages dol the Susquehanna Val-
ley from Binghamton to Owego and be-
yond to where the river leaves New York.
Those on the soul li hank may be called
newei' than those opposite, for the Lacka-
wanna Railroad on the south side was

built many, many years alter the old
Brie. Both roads cross the Chenango
near each other, and stay together as far
as Lestershire, three miles from Bingham-
ton. Then the Erie sticks to the north
hank, while the Lackawanna crosses to the
south side. The Erie passes through
Union, 9 miles from Binghamton; Camp-
ville, 15 miles, and Hiawatha, lit. Then
comes Owego, T2 miles. Beyond to Waver-
ly are Tioga Centre, Smithboro and Bar-
ton. The Lackawanna touches Vestal, op
posite Union; Apalachin, 14 miles from
Binghamton, and Lounsberry, Nichols and
Litchfield, beyond Owego. The villages
mentioned on the smith hank are shipping
points for the farmers of Pennsylvania
across the border, while those on the north
hank serve a similar purpose for farming
communities hack of them.

From Owego west there are really three
railroads along the Susquehanna for 15
miles, as the Lehigh Valley's line from
Sayre to Auburn and on to Lake Ontario
Closely parallels the Erie tracks on the
north hank, touching Barton, Smithlx.ro.
Tioga ( lentre and Owego.

In addition to the merit of being pleas-
antly situated in a delightful valley and
beside a noble river an advantage shared
by all -there are special points which at
tract the traveler to several Of these vil-
lages. At Lestershire is what is said to be
the largest shoe factory in the world, a
huge brick building where L,200 persons
are employed. Union, whose charm is en-
hanced by a picturesque Bound Hill on the
river hank, was the scene of a skirmish be-
tween Imlians and the army of General
Clinton when he was on his way to join
General Sullivan. Vestal was the birth-
place of David B. Locke— "Petroleum V.
Nashy," the humorist — whose father had a
tannery there. Apalachin gave rise to still

64

greater celebrities, among them Gen. B.
F. Tracy, the New York lawyer and for-
mer Secretary of the Navy, and also the
Rockefellers, the Standard Oil magnates,
among the wealthiest of America's multi-
millionaires. Lounsberry is the centre of a
country where many sugar beets are
raised.

In the plain between the Susquehanna
and the Chemung, above their point of
union, are three lively towns. Athens, the
oldest and one of much historic importance,
lies right in the tongue of the peninsula.
North of Athens is Sayre, founded by the
Lehigh Valley Railroad and pushed ahead
because it is a junction point and the site
of large railroad shops. Then farther to the
northwest is Waverly, on Cayuta creek.
While not exactly a railway town, Waverly
owes its being to the Erie road. It is the
only one of the trio within the limits of
New York. Were it not for this political
separation the three towns could easily
unite and form a city of no mean size that
might in time give Binghamton a push for
the supremacy of the "Southern Tier."
There are close relations between the peo-
ple of Athens, Sayre and Waverly; they
are linked by trolley and by pleasant drive-
ways; and in their variety of factories they
have other sympathetic bonds, as well as
business rivalries.

Willis, whom I have before quoted, gives
a capital description of the junction of the
Chemung and the Susquehanna. His imag-
inative fancy caused him to picture it thus:

"A!" Imagine this capital letter laid on its back
and pointed south by east, and you have a pretty
fair diagram of the junction of the Susquehanna
and the Chemung. The note of admiration de-
scribes a superb line of mountains at the back of
the Chemung Valley, and the quotation marks ex-
press the fine bluffs that overlook the meeting of
the waters at Athens. The cross of the letter (say
a line of four miles) defines a road from one river
to the other, by which travelers up the Chemung
save the distance to the point of the triangle, and
the area between is a broad plain, just now as fine
a spectacle of teeming harvest as you would find on
the Genesee.

65

IX.

LEGENDS OF TWO HILLS.

Pittston, Luzerne County, Pa., Aug.
24.— There are two hills beside the Susque-
hanna which have each been invested with
a wealth of legend through Indian tradi-
tion and the superstitions and tales of early
white dwellers.

Even the Catskills, with their Rip Van
Winkle stories, can scarcely rival the
mystery of "Spanish Hill," near Athens,
nor the romance of Campbell's Ledge,
which towers high above Pittston here at
the beginning of the Valley of Wyoming.
Both offer unusual opportunities for the
genius of an Irving, and for their sakes it
seems a pity that some one with an imag-
inative fancy and humor such as his has
not recalled their past.

Spanish Hill lies northwest of the town
of Athens, nearer the Chemung than the
Susquehanna. It stands alone, rises about
200 feet above the plain of the two rivers,
is about a mile in circumference, easy of
access, and affords a delightful view. The
boundary of New York and Pennsylvania
runs through its northern side. Willis
fancifully described the hill as a round
mountain "once shaped like a sugar loaf,
but now with a top of the fashion of a
schoolboy's hat punched in to drink from."
Around the rim of the hill are the remains
of fortifications that were old a century
ago and whose exact age is the object of
much speculation.

A dread of this hill seems to have been
universal among the Indian tribes in colo-
nial days, and nothing could induce a red
man to ascend it. Their traditions say
that a sachem once ventured to the top,
but was enveloped in clouds and smoke

66

and returned with a solemn command from
the Spirit of the Mountain that no Indian
should dare set foot on it again. It is also
said that another chief, a Cayuga, who dis-
obeyed the injunction, was seized by his
hair and whirled away by the Great Spirit.

A reasonable theory of the old earth-
works is that they were the scene of some
terrible bloody battle, possibly between
the Iroquois and the Susquehannocks. But
Spanish coins are said to have been found
there and the hill was known to the red
men as Spanish Hill, which would seem
to indicate a visit there by whites in
America's earliest history. In fact some
antiquaries have advanced the theory that
Fernando De Soto, the discoverer of the
Mississippi, in some way penetrated to
this neighborhood in 1540, that Otsego or
Onondaga was his "silver-bottomed lake,"
and that the land of "Saquechama," where
he experienced such intense cold, was none
other than the Upper Susquehanna.

If not De Soto, why not the buccaneers
of the Spanish Main? Other early tradi-
tions point their way. It is said when
they were driven out of Florida they came
up the Chesapeake and the Susquehanna,
where they were met by Indians, who
drove them to the top of this hill. There
they defended themselves by fortifications
for months, but were finally starved to
death. Tradition, usually prettier than
fact, also says they did not perish, but
saved themselves in the end by the sacri-
fice of a Spanish maiden to a Cayuga chief,
who guided them to the prairies of the
distant West. To make this complete we
certainly ought to know the lady's name.
Doubtless she was the stolen daughter of
some noble Don.

And if not the Buccaneers, why not be
more reasonable and fit Spanish Hill in
with the adventures of M. de Nonville, a
French Governor of Canada, who in 1687
led an army into the Genesee Valley 10
whip the Iroquois, but was badly beaten,
and finally retreated? These fortifications
may have been of his construction.

Even the redoubtable Captain Kidd did
not dodge Spanish Hill. His buried treas-
ure found shelter there, as well as a thou-

67

sand other places. In the time of Willis a
man hired to plow on the hillside suddenly
left his employer and purchased a large
farm by nobody-knows-what windfall of
fortune. Other men have at various times
dug for Spanish gold or buried treasure.

Campbell's Ledge is a bold mountain,
commencing here from the union of the
waters of the Susquehanna and Lacka-
wanna, and continuing rather abruptly to
a rocky, scowling summit, from which
there is a splendid view of the Valley of
Wyoming to the southwest, that of the
Lackawanna to the east and of the Susque-
hanna to the northwest. At the base of
the mountain, nestling close to it, is tin's
thrifty small city of Pittston, a thoroughly
genuine coal town.

The Delaware Indian village of Asser-
ughny once stood at the foot of Campbell's
Ledge, and the hill was used not only to
shelter their wigwams but to kindle their
beacon fires in the night hours, as they
were wont to be kindled on the Scottish
highlands in the days of Bruce and Wal-
lace.

The old inhabitants called the ledge Dial
Knob because the exact location of its
face north and south enabled noon to be
told miles away on a sunlit day. How the
designation of Campbell's Ledge came is
in doubt. Some say it was named for
Thomas Campbell after his poem made
Wyoming famous, but others say that the
name existed before Campbell's verse was
published. Another of the name of Camp-
bell was, it is said, pursued by Indians and
ran out on the ledge without knowing
where he was. When he saw no way to es-
cape his pursuers, he leaped from the rock
rather than allow himself to be taken by
them.

It has been handed down from father to
son for the last century or more that away
in the deep recesses of some glade of
Campbell's Ledge is a silver mine of incom-
putable wealth that was known and oper-
ated by the aborigines. The legend runs
that a farmer with a family of 14 children
was brutally murdered by Indians and
only one child, a boy of 14 named David,
was spared. He was carried away and

68

after traveling all night found himself on
the summit of a lofty mountain overlook-
ing Wyoming and presumed to be Camp-
bell's Ledge. A temporary halt was made
and an old Indian chief, to whom all paid
reverence, arose and, advancing a few rods,
stooped down and removed a large flat
stone, exposing to view a spring. The
waters of this were conducted away by a
subterranean aqueduct so constructed that
if accidentally discovered the waters
would seem to come from the reverse di-
rection rather than that from which they
really flowed. At the mouth of the spring
a roll of bark was placed so as to form a
spout and under this the old chief held for
some minutes a handkerchief which had
belonged to David's mother. The old spring
was stirred so as to render it turbid and
sandy and when the chief removed the
handkerchief it was seen to be completely
covered with flue yellow particles resem-
bling gold. These were placed in a stone
jar, and after incantations, to prevent any
but the rightful owners from discovering
the hidden spring, the Indians replaced
the rock and continued on their journey,
which was only ended six days later at
Kingston on the Hudson, where the sub-
stance was bartered.

David was ransomed, and in after years
related the incident to his children, one of
whom, in company with several men, dug
out a considerable portion of Campbell's
Ledge without finding the secret channel.

Other traditions sa,v that the secret of
the mine was obtained by some of the set-
tlers from the Indians by bribery, and the
Pennsylvania archives have on record a
complaint from the Indians in 1776 that
"persons had dug a trench, 44 feet long
and 6 feet deep, from which three boat-
loads of silver ore were taken away."

The 90 miles of the Susquehanna's course
through Northern Pennsylvania from Ath-
ens to Pittston is a journey that well re-
pays. Not only is there much of historic
importance to be recalled; the scenery is
fine. The river pursues a winding course,
so much so that it wastes many miles in
its tortuous channels. Between Vosburg

69

and Mehoopany the Lehigh Valley Rail-
road saves five miles by a single tunnel
under a high hill. But there are many
river bends which cannot be so avoided
and to these the railroad sticks closely,
having the beautiful river near at hand
and offering a constant succession of pic-
turesque rock and forest views, sometimes
merely pleasing by their rustic charm, but
more often wild, as becomes the moun-
tainous country.

Instead of following a natural valley,
like most rivers, the Susquehanna here
breaks through successive ranges of hills,
the northern ridges of the Alleghanies.
Precipitous escarpments tower hundreds
of feet above the stream, while slightly
farther back mountains of real grandeur
lift their heads. This sort of scenery is
entered upon almost as soon as the train
crosses the Chemung from Athens, but it
finds its boldest expression around Tunk-
hannock, 23 miles above Pittston. The
alternate sections of hills, with their inter-
vening valleys, afford a charming variety
of landscape. The rich bottom lands be-
side the river, especially where the moun-
tain streams come in, are fertile farms.
Towns with their white spires occur every
half-dozen miles — To wanda, Wyalusing and
Tunkhannock are the largest— but when
they are out of sight there are many wilder
scenes than the fancy would picture in a
region settled for more than a centurj-. In
fact, with the prevalence of Indian names,
it was almost possible to imagine one's
self a hardy pioneer, were it not for the
fact that one was traveling at the rate of
50 miles an hour on a luxurious train of the
Lehigh Valley Road.

This portion of the river has an especial
charm for those fond of boating, fishing
and camping. We saw several dozen white
tents along the banks from Athens to
Pittston, and upon the river during the
day counted no less than 300 small boats.
Most of their occupants were busily en-
gaged in fishing, but some were canoes
heading down stream in a way to indicate
that they were being used for more than
an afternoon's outing. I also saw two com-
fortable houseboats with jolly parties

70

aboard. I am told that from Binghamton
to Pittston or to Wilkesbarre is a favorite
jouruey for canoe or houseboat. The scen-
ery is certainly beautiful and the river
more free from rapids than farther down.
I envied the travelers by water.

For the fishermen the river abounds in
black bass and Susquehanna salmon or
wall-eyed pike, while the trout fishing of
the mountain streams is commended. For
the man with a gun the hills back of the
river furnish rabbits, quail, woodcock, squir-
rels and grouse. In the wilder portions an
occasional deer, bear or wildcat is seen,
while those who enjoy fox hunting will
find sufficient numbers of these crafty ani-
mals to give their hounds plenty of runs.

The Indian history of this part of the
river has many singular features. When
the white people first began to visit it
Athens— then called Diahoga, later Tioga
Point— was the foretown of the Iroquois,
the southern gate of the Confederacy— its
south door, through which, or by the Mo-
hawk, all strangers must apply to enter or
be treated as spies and enemies. The Sen-
ecas guarded it, and here was stationed a
sachem whose business it was to examine
visitors. To that point all paths led.

The Indian and Tory forces which were to
raid the Valley of Wyoming had Tioga Point
for their rendezvous and returned there a
month after the massacre. Queen Esther,
who figured so notoriously in the massacre,
ruled a village on the present site of Mi-
lan, three miles below Athens, and many
of the Indians in the raiding force came
from there. In the autumn of that year
Colonel Hartley, with 400 soldiers, went
overland from Muncy, on the West Branch,
by way of Lycoming and Towanda creeks,
and burned the Indian villages at Tioga
Point, Queen Esther's Town, Sheshequiu
and Wyalusing.

In the following summer Tioga Point was
the headquarters for Gen.. John Sullivan's
famous expedition against the Iroquois.
Marching up the river bank, from Wilkes-
barre, with boats in midstream carrying
supplies, he threw up an elaborate breast-
work at Tioga Point. Presently he was
joined by a brigade under Gen. James Clin-

71

ton, who had come from Albany by way of
Otsego Lake. The united force started up
the Chemung. A single battle was fought
where the city of Elmira now stands. This
was such a signal victory that General Sul-
livan had little trouble in devastating the
Indian strongholds in Central New York.
On the return to Tioga Point, where a
small force had been left in charge, the en-
tire command embarked on boats and went
down to Wilkesbarre. This expedition wTas
important in American history because of
its results. It broke the backbone of the
Iroquois' power.

In 1790 Tioga Point was again the scene
of an interesting historical event. The
Indians, true to their alliance, continued
to harass the pioneer settlers long after
the British had retired into Canada. Col.
Timothy Pickering, who figures so promi-
nently in other pages of the Susquehanna's
story, was sent to Tioga Point by President
Washington. Five hundred Indians ac-
cepted his invitation to a conference,
among whom the most noted were Red
Jacket and Cornplanter. Joseph Brant did
not attend and used his influence against
the conference, but Colonel Pickering was
so far successful in conciliating the In-
dians that a formal treaty was entered
into the following year at Elmira. The
site of the big pow-wow in Athens is point-
ed out behind an Episcopal Church.

Colonel Pickering was greatly aided in
pacifying the Indians by the exertions of
Matthias Hollenback, subsequently a judge
in Wilkesbarre, but most widely known as
a trader with big interests. Hollenback
had a chain of trading posts or stores up
the Susquehanna and across to Niagara, in-
cluding a large depot at Athens. He had the
esteem of every Indian and white pioneer
of the then vast wilderness, and even
after a fortune had been made he pre-
served the same simplicity in his habits.
He was an intimate friend of that other
great American trader, John Jacob As-
tor, and it is said that a trip which Astor
took with him in 1786 up the Susquehanna
fiist opened Astor's eyes to the possibili-
ties of the fur trade of Canada and the
Northwest. It is also said that Hollenback

72

saved Astor's life on this journey. The two
were fording a stream, when Astor became
dizzy and would have gone under had not
his companion hit him under the chin, and
cried: "Look up, Astor!"

Other well-known men are associated
with Athens. Charles Carroll of Carroll-
ton, last surviving signer of the Declaration
of Independence, owned much land there.
Stephen Foster, the writer of plaintive ne-
gro melodies, attended the Athens Acad-
emy. Col. Ethan Allen, the Green Moun-
tain hero, lived there for some months, hav-
ing been persuaded by Col. John Franklin
to take a hand in the later stages of the
bloody contest which was waged by Penn-
sylvania and Connecticut for the posses-
sion of Wyoming Valley and all this part of
the Susquehanna. Colonel Franklin, who
was the leader of those who held Connecti-
cut tities, actually dreamed of making a
separate State out of Northeastern Penn-
sylvania and induced Allen and other mak-
ers of Vermont to settle with him for that
purpose. After the struggle was ended,
Franklin, who had taken part in many ad-
ventures and had been in prison in Phila-
delphia, settled down on his property at
Athens and lived in quiet to a good old age.

The appropriation of classical names for
American towns leads sometimes to amus-
ing results. Thus it is possible, in 10
miles, to travel from Athens to Milan and
from Milan to Ulster. Further down the
Siisquehnnna, below Sunbury, it is possi-
ble within an hour to cross the water from
Liverpool to Halifax. The latter is a joke
my grandfather never failed to repeat
when traveling by the two towns.

Ulster is the centre of the old Indian dis-
trict of Sheshequin. The present village
of Sheshequin is on the east side of the
river, but the Indian wigwams were on the
Ulster side. Sheshequin, or Sheshequa-
nink, means "a place of rattles," which
gives an inkling of the vast number of
rattlesnakes which formerly infested the
entire region. General Sullivan's army had
a pleasant camp here, and many of his sol-
diers returned to settle the neighborhood
after the Revolution. Dui'ing the war the
wild nature of the region' made it a fairly

73

secure place for Tories, but the many who
flocked there were gradually weeded out
by the patriots.

At Ulster we first began to see fine fields
of tobacco, which is becoming a leading
crop of Northern Pennsylvania. There we
also noticed the first of a long series of
bluestone quarries (for sidewalks and
steps). Similar quarries occurred in the
valley every mile or so of the 50 to Tunk-
hannock. It is an important industry of
the river towns and villages.

Near the mouth of Sugar creek, a few
miles above Towanda. are the remains of
what appears to be an ancient fortification,
which, from its construction and from the
relics found in it in former times, would
indicate that it was made by a people prior
to the Indians, and probably the mound-
builders. There were formerly traces of
similar fortifications in Wyoming and Lack-
awanna Valleys. One of them had a tree
growing on it at least 700 years old. In
other words, this fort was abandoned be-
fore Peter the Hermit began the Crusades.

I said of Binghamton the other day that
its prosperity was, in a measure, indicated
by the erection of a fine new courthouse.
The same is true of Towanda, which is the
county seat of Bradford county. The dome
of a handsome new building of light-col-
ored stone rises near the river and is the
most conspicuous object in the town, which
lies mainly at the base of a bluff on the
west side of the river, where the latter
makes a broad bend. The Lehigh Valley's
main line crosses to the east bank, just
above Towanda, and continues on that side
to Pittston, but another branch strikes off
from Towanda through the mountains, near
Ganoga and Harvey's Lakes and down to
Wilkesbarre.

Towanda is a thriving as well as a hand-
some place. It has superior advantages for
manufactures, as hard and soft coal of the
finest quality are both abundant in the
mountains a few miles back, while depos-
its of iron ore are not far away. Millions
of tons of coal are shipped annually from
the Barclay, Leroy and Bernice and other
mines of Bradford and Sullivan counties.
There ore foundries, planing-mills, an ex-

74

tensive toy factory and piano, carriage and
furniture factories. There is also a large
trade with the farming sections of these
counties in poultry and dairy products.
Stages run to a number of inland towns.
In these and other ways Towanda has had
attractions sufficient to give it a population
of 5,000.

The Susquehanna Valley Institute, in To-
wanda, is a flourishing school, founded in
1850 by Presbyterians.

Towanda is said to signify the "place of
burial." This name arose from an act per-
formed by the Nanticoke Indians. Some
years after they had been driven up the
Susquehanna by the encroachments of
Maryland colonists on the Eastern Shore
they returned to those ancestral homes,
brought away the bones of their fore-
fathers and reinterred them here at To-
wanda. Their burying ground is a little
above the mouth of Towanda creek.

David Wilmot, author of the famous Wil-
mot proviso, forbidding slavery in the ter-
ritories acquired from Mexico, was a law-
yer and judge of Towanda, where his
partner was Galusha A. Grow, another
eminent son of Pennsylvania. Wilmot lies
buried in a pretty cemetery on the bluff
overhanging the town, and on his tomb is
inscribed the words of his celebrated sug-
gestion: "Neither slavery nor involuntary
servitude shall ever exist in any part of
said territory except for crime, whereof
the party shall first be duly convicted."

John T. Trowbridge, the novelist, in a
little record of travel humorously called
"A Carpet Bagger in Pennsylvania,"
speaks with delight of Towanda, calling it
"a bright, brisk child of the hills, lying in
the lap of a lovely valley." Continuing,
Mr. Trowbridge says:

Mountainous bluffs confront it, mirroring their
precipitous lichen-tinted crags and clinging for-
ests (many-hued in autumn) in the river, which
here spreads out in a lake-like expanse above the
dam and tumbles noisily and foamingly down into
a wide-sweeping shallow flood below. Mountains
rise behind the town also, with long lines of
boundary fence curving like belts over their ample
shoulders. The checkered farms, dark squares of
plowed land and brown pastures and gray stub-

75

ble fields, contrasting with the delicate green squares
of tender young wheat-clothe their giant forms in
true highland plaids. Agriculture has shaven these
hills to their very crowns, leaving only here and
there a tuft of woods for a scalplock.

Mr. Trowbridge also tells a marvelous
snake story. Back on Rattlesnake Moun-
tain, he says, there lived an old man who
became convinced that rattlers could be
sold at a profit to menageries, and so col-
lected a large number of them in the attic
of his hovel. One dark night he and his
wife were awakened by sounds, and be-
came convinced that the snakes had found
a crack in the ceiling and were dropping
down into his bedroom. Their lamp was
some distance from the bed, but bv push-
ing his bare feet carefully, so as not to an-
ger the reptiles, the man made a light and
saw the floor full of the slimy things, while
others were each moment dropping from
above. The rest of the night was spent in
collecting and securely penning the assort-
ment, and the next day they were shipped
down the Susquehanna in a big box labeled
"Glas Handl With Cair." Strange to say
the old man had shrewdly hit upon a goo'd
thing and got a large price for the lot.

Wysox, which is five miles below To wan-
da, and the name of which is said to sig-
nify "canoe harbor," was the scene of an
exploit prominent in the pioneer annals of
the Susquehanna. Moses Van Campen had
been captured at his home, near Danville,
by a party of nine redskins. When they
were encamped for the night, at Wvsox,
Van Campen freed himelf from his bonds
released three fellow-captives— two boys
and an Irishman— and, with their aid, tom-
ahawked and scalped four savages, badly
wounded thiee and forced the other two
to flee. Subsequently, Van Campen brag-
gmgly enlarged upon the exploit and to
such an extent that by some the storv was
pronounced a lie and Van Campen an Amer-
ican Munchausen.

After passing Standing Stone, near a
great stone in the river, which was a land-
mark for the Indians, and Hornet's Ferry,
where our attention was attracted to 'a
horse disporting in midstream with water
up to his neck, we were soon in the midst

76

of a region of much interest to students of
history. On a large fertile plain at Wya-
lusing was the famous Moravian Indian
mission Friedenshutten (Huts of Peace),
and some miles above, on the west bank,
was a colony of French noblemen, driven
from their country by the excesses of the
revolution of 1792.

A large tract of land was bought there
for these emigres by Matthias Hollenback,
at the request of Robert Morris, the emi-
nent financier, who was a friend of many
distinguished Frenchmen. The exiles soon
had a lively settlement in the wilds, with
a bakery, a. brewery, other stores and
shops, and steady communication with
Philadelphia. It was their hope and am-
bition to provide a suitable home for
Louis XVI and his unfortunate Queen,
Marie Antoinette, and for this purpose
large buildings were put up some distance
back from the river, near the present vil-
lage of New Era. But, alas! no sooner was
the work done than news came that King
and Queen had both been guillotined.

The leaders of the colony were: Omer
Talon, a Parisian banker, and Louis, Vi-
comte de Noailles, a brilliant representa-
tive of that ancient French family and a
brother-in-law of Lafayette, under whom
he had served in this country and who se-
lected him to conclude the capitulation of
Yorktown. Louis Philippe, subsequently
King of France, visited the colony with his
brothers, the Duke de Montpensier and the
Comte de Beaujolais. Talleyrand, the fa-
mous prime minister, spent some time
there, as did also the Due de la Rochefou-
cauld-Liancourt, who gave an entertaining
account of the colony in his volumes of
travel.

A romantic story might be told of the
privations and sufferings of these exiled
noblemen. They were willing enough, but
they were not inured to hardships and
could not plant a permanent colon# in the
forests. Some moved to Philadelphia and
nearly all went back to France as soon as
they believed their heads would not have
to pay the penalty. Noailles fought nobly
at Mole St. Nicholas against the British
and died at sea after a battle. The few

77

compatriots who remained on the Susque-
hanna became assimilated with those of An-
glo-Saxon blood and their descendants fill a
creditable niche in local annals. French-
town still exists in name and the township
is called Asylum.

The praying Indians of Friedenshutten
have a granite monument erected to their
memory by the Moravian Historical So-
ciety in a field near the railroad tracks, be-
low the village of Wyalusing. But this
monument does not embrace the whole
story. It does not tell how Papunhank, a
Delaware sachem, who had settled about
20 families of his tribe at Wyalusing, in-
terested them in some of the truths of
Christianity, which he had imbibed at
Philadelphia. It does not tell how these
Indians decided to accept the first teacher
that came to them, were he Moravian or
Quaker. Nor does it describe how David
Zeisberger, the celebrated Moravian "apos-
tle to the Indians," having heard of the
awakening at Wyalusing, passed John
Woolman, a Quaker evangelist, who was
also hurrying there, and so was hailed as
the divinely appointed teacher. All these
are incidents of the beginnings of Frie-
denshutten.

Pontiac's war interrupted Zeisberger's
labors. His charges were removed to an
island in the Delaware below Philadelphia,
but in 1765 they returned with others and
a village was built in orderly fashion with
bark huts, log cabins, a mission house and
a church of bark logs. The bell of that
edifice was the first church bell in the up-
per Susquehanna.

Zeisberger made his Indians industrious,
cleanly and well behaved. But the en-
croachments of Pennsylvania land survey-
ors and the sneers and taunts of other In-
dians hampered his work, so in 1772 he de-
cided to move his colony to Ohio. The last
service was held in the rude church on
June II. Then the bell was put into a ca-
noe and tolled for two miles down the
river. One party went across country to
the West branch, where they were joined
by the other half, who had gone down the
Susquehanna. This was the final chapter
of Friedenshutten.

78

Wyalusing, or, better, "M'Chwihilusing,"
means the "beautiful hunting ground."
At least a century before the days of Pa-
punhank it was an Indian village called
Gahontoto, the people of which were ex-
terminated by the Cayugas, who called
them Tehotilachsae and said they were
neither Delawares nor Iroquois.

During the 33 miles from Wyalusing to
Tunkhannock we saw a number of rope
or chain ferries, where a man hauling
away on a cable moved a flatboat capable
of carrying quite a load, and this without
danger of being carried down stream in a
rather swift current. At Laceyville work-
men were finishing a new bridge, the only
one for many miles.

Tunkhannock deserves a paragraph as a
lively town, the county seat of Wyoming
county, with a narrow-gauge railroad to
Montrose, several factories and a good
trade in bluestone and in farm products.
It has a population of 1,500, and is 54
miles below Towanda and 23 above Pitts-
ton. Its situation is beautiful.

The Indian name describes it— a place
where two smaller streams empty into a
large one, opposite each other. The neigh-
borhood abounds in high mountains of the
Alleghany ridge, known as the North
Mountains. These peaks have Indian
names— Solecca, Chodano and Matchausing
—but the two most conspicuous are known
as "The Triangle" and "The Knob."
Lake Carey, a picturesque little sheet sur-
rounded by tall hemlocks and pines, is
three miles from Tunkhannock. Six miles
away is Glen Moneypenny.

My last memory of today's ride is that of
a beautiful high cascade, immediately
alongside the railroad track a few miles
above Pittston. It is called Palling Spring.
The waters of a copious fountain head
pour over a bluff a couple of hundred feet
high, and fall with a grace deserving of a
poet's praise.

X.

THE VALE OF WYOMING.

WlLKESBARRE, LlTZERNE COUNTY, Pa.,

Aus:. 25.— I may as well bo frank with you
and confess that my first impression of the
famed valley of Wyoming was one of dis-
appointment. But it is different now.

You see, our entrance into the valley was
made on a low level. When our train
passed through the mountain gap above
Pittston we were almost immediately in
proximity to vast coal refuse heaps and
great black, grim-looking breakers. There
was nothing to suggest the tragedy or ro-
mance of history or beauty of scenery.
Mountains and high hills completely sur-
rounded the valley, but while they were
noble and picturesque, the only niche
which they then seemed to fill was that of
making a big amphitheatre, within which
thousands and tens of thousands toiled
hard to make money from the abundance
of the earth's hidden treasure.

It is necessary to climb one or more of
these surrounding mountains to get a true
notion of the beauty of Wyoming. When
the valley is spread out in lovely perspec-
tive before you. you begin to comprehend
why Indians were loath to leave it; why
Connecticut Yankees and Pennsylvania
militia fought for its possession a quarter
of a century, and why poets and travelers
have alike sounded its charms in more than
one language.

You will get niany suggestions as to the
best high outlook on the inclosing hills.
From Campbell's Ledge, which is an ath-
letic climb above Pittston, there is a view
down the length of the valley inspiring and
sublime, rather than intimate. The same
is true of the view up the valley from the
mountain above Nanticoke, at its lower

80

end— a height called the "Honey Pot," be-
cause wild bees were abundant there when
it was first ascended. Other persons com-
mend the view from the mountain bound-
ing the north side of the valley, but the
outlook most often visited, because most
easily accessible, is Prospect Rock, which
juts out boldly upon the rugged southern
mountain wall, near Wilkesbarre. This is
nearly in the centre of the valley, and from
here the eye can sweep up and down and
can, on a clear day, look far up the Lack-
awanna and catch a glimpse of Wilkes-
barre's thriving rival, Scranton.

For my own part, I must recommend the
views which I obtained from a Lehigh Val-
ley train in coming down this same moun-
tain from a point near Prospect Rock. We
had been to Glen Summit, a fashionable
hotel and cottage resort, high up, but back
from the valley. The train suddenly swept
through Solomon's Gap and we found our-
selves upon the outer edge, with the valley
spread out nearly a thousand feet beneath
us. The train swerved to the left to begin
its descent to the plains, and from the car
windows on the right we drank in the
panorama for many minutes. Wilkesbarre
was only four miles away, but to get to it
17 miles of raili'oad grades were necessary.
Rounding the ridge, we first ran south-
west for half a dozen miles by a route cut
out from the side of the mountain and de-
scending 96 feet to each mile. Then we re-
versed our course, and coming northeast
through the coal town of Ashley, drew up
at the station at Wilkesbarre. The last
half of the ride served to dish up more
closely some of the places we had seen in
panorama from the ridge.

From above, the valley was green with
cornfields, meadows and gardens. The
breakers and coal heaps were mercifully
lost to view in the ensemble. Wilkesbarre
looked like a toy village upon a nursery
floor, and with the imagination playing
such tricks it was hard to believe 50,000
persons had their homes there. Other large
towns dotted the beautiful plain— Pittston,
miles up; Kingston, across the river from
Wilkesbarre: Plymouth, below Kingston,
toward the west, and Nanticoke. farther

81

west, at the valley's end. Smaller villages
and clusters of homes were there, too nu-
merous to count as we rushed down the
mountain side. Coal towns, all of them,
I knew, yet the knowledge thus forced
upon me did not detract from the pleasure
afforded by the smiling perspective and
the general beautiful contour.

I began to fancy myself the first white
man who had spied out the land, and I
understood how the report which he gave
to his Connecticut neighbors made them
eager to settle in such a charming spot.
To him, used to the stony hills of Connecti-
cut. Wyoming must have seemed the fair-
est place on earth. The valley covers a
magnificent stretch of 20 miles northeast
and southwest. The plain between the
hills averages three miles and is spread
out in flats and bottoms of luxuriant soil.
Through the centre of this great sunlit
valley the Susquehanna winds in gentle
curves, seemingly wearied with its swift
flow from Otsego and apparently anxious
to linger here so as to refresh itself with
the charms of nature before passing on
to the sea. From a high outlook it is not
always visible. Such are its windings and
such the variety which characterizes its
banks that it is seen only in sections and
often hides itself among bowers of willow,
sycamore and maple or beside low, green
islands.

The mountain panorama is magnificent
from an altitude. To the north and west
is a threefold tier of ridges that rise one
above another, one of them near at hand
bounding the valley, while the other two
peer from above with their blue tops, as
from some other world. The farthest is
the North Mountain, 2.000 feet above the
Susquehanna. The slopes nearer at hand
average about 800 feet to the top. The east-
ern range upon which we were speeding
is precipitous and strikingly diversified
with clefts, ravines and forests.

Such was the valley's intrinsic loveliness
when the white men first came here. Think
what a charm it has now, with its beauty
reinforced by thrilling recollections of
some of the most tragic scenes in our na-
tional history, by sweet imaginations of the

82

poets and by memories of its sudden and
giant-like growth when the wealth that
lay beneath the ground first became ap-
preciated. Wyoming is. indeed, a classic
and household name, "suggestive the world
over of romance and fact, beauty and hor-
ror, fascinating traditions and wonderful
feats of modern enterprise." Or, as an-
other writer has put it, it is "the label
of a treasured packet of absorbing history
and winning romance," as well as the
name of a valley of "sunny skies, rustling
trees, dancing waters and frowning hills."
This valley, nestling "by Susquehanna's
side," was named b.v the Indians "Maugh-
wau-wame" ("The Big Plains"). The ear-
liest whites dropped the first syllable and
rendered the name "Wau-wau-mie," which
still retained the Indian sweetness. Then
the native melody was lost in "Wyomie,"
but was finally restored in "Wyoming."

It is not my purpose to recall at length
the battle of Wyoming and the subsequent
massacre. The nation's historians and
many local writers of ready pen have made
the world acquainted with the tragedy and
a thousand and one bloody incidents. The
whole story is condensed in the following
beautiful inscription upon the tall granite
obelisk, which was erected half a century
ago upon the spot which was the scene of
the hardest fighting:

Near this spot was fought, on the afternoon of
the 3d of July. 1778, the battle of Wyoming, in
which a small band of patriotic- Americans, chiefly
the undisciplined, the youthful and the aged,
spared by inefficiency from the distant ranks of the
republic, led by Col. Zebulon Butler and Col. Na-
thaniel Denison, with a courage that deserved suc-
cess, boldly met and bravely fought a combined
British, Tory and Indian force of thrice their num-
ber. Numerical success alone gave success to the
invader, and widespread havoc, desolation and ruin
marked his savage and bloody footsteps through
the Valley.

This monument, commemorative of these events
and in memory of the actors in them, has been
erected over the bones of the slain by their descend-
ants and others, who gratefully appreciate the serv-
ices and sacrifices of their patriotic ancestors.

This monument is about five miles above
Wilkesbarre, upon the north or opposite
bank of the Susquehanna, and near an at-

83

tractive village known as Wyoming. The
various sites of Revolutionary interest are
now conveniently and quickly visited by a
trolley line running upon a broad highway
connecting West Pittston with Kingston,
which I have mentioned as being across the
river from Wilkesbarre. The trip, of course,
enabled us to understand the battle by go-
ing over the ground, but in addition it in-
troduced us to a succession of Wyoming's
attractive villages, so built up by the elec-
tric cars that between the suburbs of any
two the distance is so short there is really
no country seen for the entire ride, save at
a distance. The streets of the several
towns are broad, well shaded and lighted
by electricity: the schools and churches in
them indicate a progressive community,
m while the homes show a comfortably sit-
uated people.

West Pittston, where we started, on the
right bank of the Susquehanna, directly
opposite Pittson, is a cultured community,
in which are found the homes of many of
Pittston's wealthy business men. Many of
the dwellings are handsome and some of
the churches are costly edifices. As a resi-
dence town it has the advantage of having
not a single place for the sale of liquor.

The villages and towns between West
Pittston and Kingston are Exeter, Wyo-
ming, Forty Fiirt, Vaughn's Corners and
Dorranceton. In these places live descend-
ants of those who managed to escape the
fury of the red men. Wyoming is on the
battle field and near the monument. To the
north and through a mountain valley is
the beautiful camp-meeting ground of Wyo-
ming Conference. Forty Fort bears its pe-
culiar name because its neighborhood was
originally settled by that number of Con-
necticut immigrants. In the old Methodist
Church there, erected in 1807, Francis As-
bury and Lorenzo Dow did much to spread
Methodism in what is now a stronghold of
that religion.

At Kingston is located the Wyoming
Conference Seminary, which, since its
foundation in 1843 by Methodists, has
graduated many men prominent in church
and public circles. Its large buildings

84

were mainly erected through the generosity
of wealthy men of the Wyoming Valley.
Kingston, like West Pittston, is chiefly a
residence town, through its nearness to
Wilkesbarre, and many of the hitter's best
known men have fine homes there. On the
outskirts of the town are several large
collieries and large ear shops of the Dela-
ware, Lackawanna and Western Road,
which also has extensive yards where coal
trains are made up.

Let lis now go back to the battle held.
West Pittston includes the site of the
Revolutionary Fort Jenkins, the tirst place
taken by the Tory and Indian forces when
they entered the valley after coming down
the Susquehanna. Fort Wintermoot was a
mile west and not so near the river. The
men who built it and whose name it bore
professed to be Americans, but were really
Tories, and promptly yielded the stockade
to the invaders. The two forts are long
since gone, but in the river near Fort Win-
termoot we were shown Monocacy Island,
to which many brave patriots were pur-
sued when defeat had occurred, and where
much terrible slaughter ensued. It was on
the shore of this little island, now so pretty
and green, that a Wyoming resident who
had turned Tory is said to have slain his
own brother under revolting circumstances,
crying out as he murdered him, "No quar-
ter, for you are a d rebel."

We were also shown Queen Esther's
Rock, where the notorious half-breed
Seneca woman, infuriated by the recent
killing of her son, is said to have slain 14
Americans on the night of the battle. Six-
teen prisoners Avere brought before her,
seated one by one on the stone, and the
old woman dashed out their brains. Two
managed to break away from their Indian
captors and make their escape. The bowl-
der is not an especially large one, but it
stands in full view in a field not far from
the monument. A portion of it is of a red-
dish hue, and the credulous see in this
discoloration the ineffaceable stain of hu-
man blood. Around another similar stone
the bodies of nine victims were found, but
no one escaped to narrate the details of
the tragedy there enacted.

85

Forty Fort was the stockade from which
the patriots had inarched forth to give
battle and to which the survivors had re-
turned in defeat and flight. It was sur-
rendered to the Tories on the following
d;iy. and was the scene of many acts of
violence and plunder, for the Tory leader
was unable to restrain his white men and
red men. Hundreds of Wyoming's people
fled down the Susquehanna or toward the
Delaware, through the swampy region
which has ever since been known as "The
Shades of Death."

The site of Forty Fort stockade is in-
tersected by the highway over which we
rode. There are no remains of it. I was
told that the old log house in which the
surrender was arranged and signed is still
standing, but I was unable to find it.

The Indian and pioneer history of the
Wyoming is not so well known to the gen-
eral reader, but has great interest and has
given many places in the valley a charm
of their own.

The "Big Plains" were a favorite spot
with the Indians. The mountains abounded
with game. The streams swarmed with
fish at all seasons, and in the spring were
filled with the migratory shad of a size
and flavor unknown nearer the sea. Wild
fruits and grapes covered the hills ana
river banks, whose fertile soil gave a rich
return to the rude husbandry of the red
men.

About the year 1750, which was prior to
the white settlements, there was a curious
assortment of Indian tribes here. ISear
the site of Wilkesbarre, on the south side
of thf river was Maugh-wau-wanie, a
village of the Dela wares, who had been
moved there by the haughty Iroquois. Far-
ther up, on the same side, was another
Delaware village on a flat place known
from the name of the chief as Jacob's
Plain. On the north side, in this upper
end of the valley. Conrad Weiser, a famous
Indian interpreter, says he found a rem-
nant of Mohicans. A clan of the Shawnees,
"that restless nation of wanderers," had
a large village in the lower part of the
valley, on the site of Plymouth, while the

86

Nanticokes, from Maryland, lived on a spot
which has ever since borne their name.

In 1742 Count Zinzendorf— the famous
founder of the Moravian religion, a man
whose nobility of birth was as assured as
his nobility of character— came into Wy-
oming to establish a mission. He was re-
ceived with suspicion by the Shawnees,
who thought he had come to obtain land.
They planned to kill him, and one night
crept to his tent. Inside, the Count, uncon-
scious of lurking danger, was writing by a
fire. A rattlesnake, attracted from its hole
by the warmth, was crawling lazily over
the feet of the good man, who was too
deeply engrossed in his pious task to no-
tice the dangerous intruder. The Indians
were awed by this sight, and stole away,
believing that their visitor was, indeed, a
ward of the Great Spirit.

Two events led to the departure of the
red men from Wyoming. A curious combat
in 1755 known as the "Grasshopper War"'
compelled the Shawnees to leave, and the
massacre, in 1763. of the earliest white set-
tlers, at Mill creek, caused the Delawares
to flee. The Mohicans had dropped out of
notice and the Nanticokes had moved up
the Susquehanna.

The "Grasshopper War" grew out of a
quarrel between the women and children
of the Shawnees and the Delawares over
rival claims to the ownership of a large
grasshopper caught by one of the children.
The men of both tribes were hunting at
the time upon the mountains, but on their
return the Shawnees attacked Maugh-wau-
wame, but were repulsed by the Delawares
with great slaughter, and finally driven
from the valley.

Thirty white pioneers were massacred by
the Delawares at Mill Creek, which is a
couple of miles above Wilkesbarre, near
the river bank. The settlement had been
made from Connecticut and was only a
year old. Tadeuskund. the Delaware chief,
had been murdered by a party of Iroquois,
who fathered the crime upon the new im-
migrants and incited the massacre of the
whites. The Delawares fled from the val-
ley after the massacre.

87

Several times I have referred to the con-
flict between Pennsylvania and Connecti-
cut for the possession of Wyoming Valley.
It was a long and wearisome, often bloody,
series of fights— not creditable to the good
sense of the masters of either colony. Ar-
bitration and compromise might have cut
the quarrel short in the beginning, as it did
after Wyoming's dwellers had been afflict-
ed for 20 years with battles, sieges, barri-
cades, stratagems, truces, ill-treatment of
women and children, and capture and mur-
der of the heads of many families. Penn-
sylvania's fight was a governmental one,
never popular with the people of the Com-
monwealth, who sympathized with the
Connecticut settlers.

The conflict was due to the Connecticut
charter, which gave the State "from ocean
to ocean" within certain latitudes, and
which was, indeed, a royal gift had men
but known its value, for it included the
coal mines of Wyoming, the oil regions of
Pennsylvania, the fairest corn lands of
many prairie States and a goodly share of
California's gold and Colorado's silver.

When Wyoming was found to be a "para-
dise amid bleak mountains" the Susque-
hanna Company was formed in Connecti-
cut to purchase the Indian title and occu-
py the valley. Pennsylvania resisted the
Yankee claim, and in 1769 began the so-
called "First Pennamite War." The great-
er happenings of the Revolution interrupt-
ed the conflict, but from 1780 to 1789 the
"Second Pennamite War" went merrily on.
An arbitration tribunal decided against
Connecticut's claim, but tne Pennsylva-
nians embittered the struggle by insisting
upon the ejectment of all Yankees. Better
counsels prevailed and the talents of the
noted Col. Timothy Pickering, of Massa-
chusetts, were enlisted. He was given all
the public offices of the newly created
Pennsylvania county— a sort of colonial
"Pooh Bah"— and after many years the
Yankee settlers were secured in their ti-
tles on condition of yielding allegiance to
Pennsylvania. But this did not happen un-
til a party of fiery Yankees, angry at the
capture and imprisonment of their leader,
Col. John Franklin, abducted Pickering

88

and kept him for several weeks in a little
hut many miles up the Susquehanna. After
peace came, Pickering returned to Massa-
chusetts, selling for .$5,r>00 possessions in
Wyoming now said to be worth .$2,000,000.

The chief points in the valley associated
with the Pennamite War were Forts Wy-
oming and Durkee, which were on the Sus-
quehanna's banks in what is now the heart
of Wilkesbarre. These were taken and re-
taken many times by one or the other
party. The people of Wyoming also refer
with pride to the narrow mountain defile
on the west bank above the rapids at Nan-
ticoke. There a party of 700 Pennsylva-
nians, inarching up from Sunbury, were
ambuscaded and repulsed with severe 'oss.

The New England form of local govern-
ment prevailed when the Yankees held
power. The source of authority was the
town-meeting. The townships were part of
Litchfield county and had representatives
in the Legislature at Hartford.

No recollections of Wyoming's history
are complete without a mention of Frances
Slocum, the lost captive. When she was a
little girl her father was a Quaker farmer
where Wilkesbarre now stands. She was
carried off by a party of Indians, and for
many years her family vainly searched for
tidings of her. In 1833 a traveler who met
Mocanaqua, an old Indian squaw, in a
Miami village in Illinois, was told by her
that she was of white blood; that she re-
membered her father as wearing a broad-
brimmed hat, and that her childhood home
had been somewhere on the Susquehanna.
She had married a chief among her ab-
ductors, had spent a happy life and was a
widow with considerable property. The
traveler wrote to a Pennsylvania news-
paper, and two brothers of Frances, now
gray-haired men, went to Illinois to re-
claim her. She was suspicious of them at
first, but at last the recognition was mu-
tual.

The brothers begged Mocanaqua to re-
turn with them, but she refused. "I've
been an Indian all my life," she said. "My
ways are those of red men, not of white.
I would not be happy with you. Here I
wish to die."

89

XI.

BENEATH A BIG CITY.

WlLKESBARRE, LUZERNE COUNTY. PA.,

Aug. 26. — Some writer has fancifully
pointed out that the coal fields of Penn-
sylvania are shaped like a huge mastodon,
the body being the great bituminous beds
of the central and west portions of the
Statp. and the jaws rudely represented by
the hard coal district of Wyoming.

It is a monster whose clutches Pennsyl-
vanians are proud of and would sacrifice
great things rather than shake off. For
God has truly given wondrous prosperity
to the people of the State, and to the peo-
ple of Wyoming, in these glorious anthra-
cite deposits.

A chain of cities, towns and villages,
nearly 50 miles long, with Wilkesbarre,
Pittston and Scranton as the chief points,
and with a combined population of a third
of a million, shows in brief measure what
old King Coal has done to give wealth
in his kingdom. They are all his subjects
here. Those who do not mine, manufac-
ture; and manufacture because the fuel is
beside them. Tradesmen and merchants
who neither mine nor manufacture depend
upon those who do for custom, and so—
wheel within wheel— all depends upon the
"black diamond." Coal makes the mare go.

It is said that the coal strata underneath
Wyoming Valley average 56 feet in thick-
ness, and that every acre, at a conserva-
tive estimate, should yield 1,000 tons for
each foot of depth. In other words, two
billions of tons of anthracite are here wait-
ing to be dug up to keep the world warm.
Millions of tons are annually brought out,
and the surface of Wyoming Valley is

90

thickly marked with huge mountains of
black ' waste and scores of great, grim-
looking breakers, which to some poetic
mind suggested a fierce-looking Rhenish
castle, but to me, a dweller in a grain-
handling city, seems more nearly akin to a
high elevator, only 20 times as dingy.

The problem of waste is a serious one
with the people of this coal land. The
great heaps of dust and slate refuse rise 150
to 200 feet high beside the older mines
and extend for half a mile. They have
broken up farming on the surface, have
ruined many pleasant homes, have marred
the beauty of Wyoming and have become
a loafing place for unruly men and boys
and for dogs, hogs and goats. Often the
piles catch afire and burn for months,
endangering life and property and throw-
ing off noxious gases. To a visitor these
burning heaps are at night a beautiful
sight, but to the dweller they are a
menace. Moreover, it is being realized
that the recklessness of earlier mining
threw away much small coal that could
have been burned and the piles are being
turned over to get this out. The mine
boilers and plant are fed with it, even
though it is not put on the market. There
is a feeling among thoughtful men that
Wyoming's coal will not last forever and
that it is best to be prudent.

Many of the mines are directly beneath
cities and towns. This is a never-ending
amazement to the unthinking, some of
whom are so ignorant as to walk the
streets of Wilkesbarre quaking in their
boots for fear the earth may literally
swallow them up, and much relieved when
the day's visit is over. Yet the bowels of
the earth are honeycombed with gang-
ways, galleries and passages best adapted
to enable the miners to attack the coal
with the most ease. Ttjese excavations
are of course far beneath the streets and
have been planned with much science and
calculation. Some of the mines run under
thf Susquehanna to the other side from
the opening, and, as an instance of en-
gineering skill, I was told of a mine at
Pittston which was started directly be-
neath another which had to be abandoned

91

because about 20 acres of it caught on fire
and burned for years.

The courtesy of a mine superintendent
today enabled me to go down into a mine
which is being worked under Wilkesbarre
I had planned the trip because I wanted
to imagine how I would feel hundreds of
feet beneath a big city, but to tell the
truth, I almost forgot this prearranged
notion in the interests of the depths. Halls
and chambers "of Cyclopean proportions"
were found after we had descended the
shaft. The tiny safety lamps in the min-
ers' caps— I had one, too— looked like will-
o'-the-wisps as they moved about, and
no sound was heard but the miners' tools
or the report of a blast in some distant
gallery. I felt awed in these midnight
chambers and even a bit uneasy when the
superintendent was called away for a mo-
ment. My remembrance of cave-ins was
particularly strong for the instant, and I
was startled when a little car full of
freshly mined coal loomed upon me, with
the aid of a mule and a boy. Presently
my guide returned, and with him I went
farther into the recesses, "gloomy as the
tomb of Thebes." The digging was being
done in "breasts." or galleries at right
angles to the main gangway, often not
level, because pitched with the slope of the
strata. Between each of these "breasts"
a pillar of coal several yards thick is left
to support the roof.

When hauled up to the surface and to
the top of the breakers, the coal is first
dumped upon a large platform, where the
big pieces of slate are picked out. Then
the best lumps of large coal are selected
and the others shoved between breaking
tools, or crushers— heavy iron cylinders,
with sharp teeth. Sieves of varying dimen-
sions then come into play to pick out the
coal of different sizes.

Wyoming was the seat of the first dis-
coveries of coal in America, though the
Lehigh Coal Company, of Mauch Chunk,
was the first mining company. The In-
dians seem to have known the use of coal.
In 1710 two of AVyoming's chiefs were
taken to England and saw coal burning
there for domestic purposes. They had

92

some sort of a mine in this valley, for in
1776 they complained that white men were
working the vein. In 1769, Obadiah Gore,
a blacksmith from Connecticut, burned
coal in his forge, the site of which was a
short distance above Wilkesbarre on the
river flats. In 1776 an arsenal forge of
the Continental government at Carlisle
was supplied with coal taken from a sur-
face outcropping on the banks of the Sus-
quehanna at Mill creek, above Wilkes-
barre. Near the old mine the Lehigh Val-
ley Company has now two shafts in full
operation, more than 600 feet beneath the
surface, and from which several hundred
thousand tons are annually raised.

On account of the difficulty of ignition
beeause of the need of a draft of air and
of a prevailing belief that anthracite was
useless coal, it was slow to be appreciated,
Some which was shipped from Mauch
Chunk to Philadelphia could not be sold,
was a miserable failure when used beneath
the boiler of the city waterworks and was
finally broken up and used as gravel on
sidewalks. At last, in 1808, Jesse Fell, a
Wilkesbarre hotel-keeper, afterward a
county judge, discovered that hard coal
would burn if put in a grate with a good
draft of air. The site where this val-
uable discovery was made is now in the
centre of Wilkesbarre, at Washington and
Northampton streets. It attracted much
attention, resulted in the general use of
coal in Wyoming's homes and started min-
ing and the vast trade now enjoyed. Coal
laud brought $5 an aere when Fell made
his experiment. Now it is cheap at $1,000.

Wilkesbarre in early times was supplied
from a now historic mine, the old Balti-
more, about a mile southeast of the then
village. It was opened in 1814 by Gen.
Lord Butler, who sold its product for $3
a ton. In 1829 Baltimore capitalists, head-
ed by Thomas Symington, bought the mine
for $14,000—410 acres for less than $35 an
acre— organized the Baltimore Coal Com-
pany under Maryland laws and began ship-
ping hard coal to Baltimore in river boats.
The Baltimore mine is considered to have
been one of the finest veins of anthracite
in the country. A stone forest was long

93

visible in its depths, the trunks and roots
of immense trees being plainly evident.
The stump of one was placed in the vesti
bule of the courthouse at Wilkesbarre.

At an early day, it is said, when the Bal-
timore mine was still rudely worked at its
outcropping*, a party of Quakers visited
the place. The light from without re-
flected many hues in the sparkling an-
thracite, and the impressiveness of the
place so affected one of the number, Rachel
Price, that she broke out into utterances
of gratitude to the great Supreme Being
for having "placed such storehouses of
fuel amid the wilderness of this cold
Northern clime to be preserved for the
benefit of His people when the forests
should be swept away and their need
should be sorest."

The history of coal mining is, unfortu-
nately, replete with terrible disasters. Of
these one of the worst was on September
f), I860, at the Avondale mine, near Plym-
outh, on the north side of the Susque-
hanna, some miles below Wilkesbarre.
The breaker burned, and there being but
one outlet, and that through the breaker,
208 men were suffocated. By this acci-
dent 72 widows and 153 orphans were left.
Relief committees were organized in many
cities, and $155,825 was subscribed. A new
breaker was erected at once, and the mine
has been operated ever since.

Wilkesbarre was a straggling country
village for two-thirds of a century after
its foimdation, and might have remained
so forever had not coal wealth transformed
it. It has a fine situation beside the Sus-
quehanna, which is here about five or six
hundred feet wide. As at Harrisburg, the
street next the river has always been the
choice residence avenue, containing fine
and costly homes in pretty grounds and the
leading hotels. The bluff between the
street and the water is public property
and has been parked, so that the dwellers
on River street can look across green
lawns, over the river and the plains of
Kingston, at the blue walls of Wyoming
Mountain.

When Wilkesbarre was laid out by Col.
John Durkee he made a diamond-shaped

94

square the centre of his town of 200 acres,
and that has been the heart of Wilkesbarre
ever since, though the city extends back
for three miles southward and about two
miles east and west. In the diamond
stands the Luzerne County Courthouse, a
large brick and stone structure of peculiar
Romanesque architecture. It is one of a
number of fine large structures. Among
the others are the City Hall, one block
from the courthouse, the jail, the armory
of the Ninth Pennsylvania Militia, two
excellent theatres, two hospitals, a num-
ber of business blocks, the Osterhout Free
Library and 35 church edifices, 11 of which
are Methodist Episcopal. A conspicuous
edifice in the suburbs is the Mallinckrodt
Convent, founded in 1878 by Miss Paulina
von Mallinckrodt, a member of a noble
German family. It is the mother house of
the Sisters of Christian Charity in the
United States and is popular as a noviti-
ate and academy for girls.

Wilkesbarre has had but few vicissitudes
since its troubles in infancy. Founded in
1772, named for two energetic defenders of
American liberty in the British Parlia-
ment—John Wilkes and Col. Isaac Barre
(as Pittston was named after William
Pitt)— it was made a borough in 1806 and
a city in 1871. Its municipal activity is
shown in a mountain water supply, a Daid
fire department, a steam heating system,
31 miles of sewers and 75 miles of streets,
paved with asphalt, vitrified brick or wood.

The street railway system is a remark-
able development, for there are a dozen
lines, all starting from the courthouse
square, radiating like arteries north, east,
south and west, linking every town and
village hereabouts to Wilkesbarre and
bringing a population of more than 100.000
within half an hour of Wilkesbarre's stores
and amusements. The longest lines are up
the valley to Scranton and across moun-
tains northward to Harvey's Lake.

Of still greater magnitude are Wilkes-
barre's railroad advantages. Coal has at-
tracted no less than seven railroads. Four
of them— the Lehigh Valley, Central Rail-
road of New Jersey, Delaware, Lacka-
wanna and Western and the New York,

95

Susquehanna and Western— run to New
York and, combined, give 16 trains daily
to New York. The Susquehanna and West-
em is the former Wilkesbarre and East-
ern line, which runs by way of Delaware
Water Gap and parallels the D., L. and W.
Wilkesbarre is the southern terminus of
the Pennsylvania Division of the Delaware
and Hudson system and the eastern termi-
nus of the Pennsylvania Railroad's Sun-
bury Division. The seventh road is the
Erie and Wyoming Valley, which taps the
Erie road at Lackawaxen and is a valuable
coal feeder.

Au interesting survival of pioneer trans-
portation methods is a series of planes at
Ashley, a few miles south of Wilkesbarre.
They were built in 1839 to carry loaded
canal boats across the mountains to the
Lehigh river and so to Philadelphia. The
three planes aggregate an ascent of 1,150
feet. Cars hauled by strings of horses
pulled the boats to the foot of the planes.
Coal cars are now run up and down the
planes.

Wilkesbarre's manufactures cannot be
forgotten. Two large lace manufactories
are worth a visit, and there are silk mills,
four foundries, axle works, three locomo-
tive and engine shops, wire-rope works,
gun works, cutlery works, two immense
breweries and many manufactories of iron,
steel, wood and leather. There will be a
larger array soon, with Wilkesbarre's ad-
vantages.

96

XII.

THE HOME OF PRIESTLEY.

Northumberland. Pa., Aug. 28.— As our
train came into Northumberland yesterday
from the Wyoming Valley our conductor,
pointing to a long frame house beside the
railroad track and between it and the
canal, said:

"There is where Dr. Priestley lived and
died."

I had asked him about the home of the
famous discoverer of oxygen and founder
of chemistry, and I turned eagerly as he
pointed. The railroad track now runs very
close to the front door of the mansion,
which was built by Dr. Priestley. In his
day neither railroad nor canal was there,
and he was by the river side. His house is
two stories high, with a one-story exten-
sion on either side, one of which has al-
ways been a kitchen, while in the other
was the chemist's library and laboratory.

You will recall that in 1794, after he had
been assailed by riotous Britishers for his
advanced views on the French Revolution,
the English scientist and philosopher came
to Northumberland and dwelt here until
his death in 1804. His life here, while
placid, was also busy. He corresponded
with Adams and Jefferson., and with the
American Philosophical Society, wrote
against Paine and Volney and a number of
French freethinkers, upheld Biblical insti-
tutions in comparison with those of Orient-
al antiquity, completed his church history
and annotated the whole Bible. His lit-
erary work was usually done in shorthand
beside the fireside in this house, though he
often thought out his writings while tak-
ing long walks in the neighborhood.

Priestley rests in an old burying ground
on the slope of Montour's Ridge, back of

97

Northumberland, a comparatively neg-
lected spot. Descendants of his name live
in the town, a grandson of the identical
name having been a physician. In 1874
American chemists assembled here to cele-
brate the centennial of the discovery of
oxygen.

Another prominent man here a century
ago was Thomas Cooper, Priestley's friend
and fellow-immigrant. He practiced law
and became a strong Democrat and a local
judge. Subsequently he was a professor of
chemistry in Dickinson College and the
University of Pennsylvania, and president
of South Carolina College, a man emineut
for his versatility.

The scenery about Northumberland is as
pleasing today as it was when Priestley
and Cooper found delight in it. The West
Branch meets the main stream of the Sus-
quehanna in a majestic way. The main
stream is parted by an island upon which
John B. Packer has a widely known model
farm. A century ago this island was owned
by Edward Lyon, another who came with
Priestley. The united river is almost a lake
for a couple of miles, as it has been
dammed at Shamokin to feed the canal.
The waters are still and mirror-like, re-
flecting the beauties of Blue Hill, which
rises perpendicularly from the farther side
of the West Branch. Northumberland,
which has 2,500 inhabitants, is between the
two streams. Its more ambitious rival,
Sunbury, which lays claim to 10,000 souls,
is on a level plain on the bank of the united
river two miles south of Northumberland.
Hills are back of both towns, some with
gentle slopes, some as abrupt as Blue Hill.

Many of the traditions of the neighbor-
hood cluster around Blue Hill. In a cer-
tain line of vision it is possible to see in
the rocky bluff a clear outline of the face
of an Indian chief. It is, they say, a good
likeness of Shikellimy, one of the most
famous Indians of the Susquehanna, a
sachem who was stationed at this point to
act as viceroy of the Six Nations over the
subsidiary tribes of Pennsylvania and
farther south. Shikellimy was an Indian
of noble mind, a man worthily the father
of an even more famous Indian, Logan,

98

"the Mingo," who was born here and who
later moved to the Juniata and thence to
Ohio. Every schoolboy knows his famous
speech against the white man's misdeeds,
as reported by Thomas Jefferson.

Shikellimy governed here from about 1728
until his death in 1749. He was the friend
of many influential men of the colony, in-
cluding Count Zinzendorf and David Zeis-
berger, who founded a Moravian mission
here in 1745, and maintained a smithy
where the red men's guns were repaired.
The name "Shamokin" is said to mean
"where gun barrels are straightened."

The Indian village of Shamokin was a
little north of the present town of Sunbury
and near the river. It was a place of some
size and had an extensive burial ground,
in which many Indian beads, utensils and
implements have been found. About 40
years ago there was uncovered the grave
<>f one who had evidently been a chief of
high rank, and it is concluded that this
was Shikellimy.

Northumberland and Sunbury were laid
out about the same time, the former in
177~>, at the instance of Reuben Haines, a
wealthy Philadelphia brewer, who had ex-
tensive land holdings in the vicinity, and
the latter in 1772, at the instance of Wil-
liam Maclay, who was the first United
States Senator from Pennsylvania, and
whose old stone house in Sunbury, built
in 1773, is still standing. Maclay married
a daughter of the founder of Harrisburg
ami his late years were spent there.

In early times there were many predic-
tions of the future greatness of Northum-
berland, based upon its situation, but to-
day its chief industry is a nail factory and
the town has a more or less decayed,
though genteel, look, while in Sunbury
there is abundant evidence of thrift and of
a variety of manufactures. There are rail-
road repair shops, a rolling mill, an organ
factory, a saw and planing mill, coffin, table,
sash and door factories. Moreover, as the
outlet of the Shamokin coal district, back
in the hills and connected by a railroad,
Sunbury handles at least a million tons an-
nually. Its railroad yards are big.

In Northumberland's quiet streets it is

99

L,tra

not easy to believe that the town onee
came within a single vote of being tne
State capital.

We took in the sights of the neighbor-
hood in a few hours by first riding to Sun-
bury on one of a number of little steam-
boats which ply upon the river here, and
then returning by a trolley route which
crosses Packer's Island and passes a pic-
nic grove known as Island Park. As we
putted along on the river the profile of
Shikellimy was clearly outlined, though it
soon faded with our progress. We saw the
several bridges that span the two rivers,
our attention being especially directed to
the old one across the West Branch used
by canal teams.

Blue Hill looked particularly bold and
beautiful. Upon its crest, nearly 400 feet
above the river, there stood for a long time
a curious "leaning tower" at an angle of
30 degrees over the precipice. It was built
for amusement by an eccentric character,
"Johnny" Mason, an old bachelor, who
was said to have retired here and lived a
hermit" s life after a disappointment in
love. His "tower" was a point of attrac-
tion for many years, both because of its
view and of its danger. Some mischievous
visitors finally loosened it from its moor-
inns. In later years a summer hotel, the
Shikellimy House, stood near its site, but
that was burned four years ago.

A marvelous tale of Blue Hill is that of
the escape of one Marcus Hulings, who
was pursued by Indians, and finding no
other means to avoid capture ran to the
edge of the precipice, grabbed a large limb,
swung out into space, landed unhurt 90
feet below on a ledge, leaped again by the
same method, then jumped 40 feet and es-
caped with a disloeated shoulder. What
will they tell next V

Our steamboat passed near several flat-
boats from which men were scooping the
river bottom. "What are they doing?" I
asked of the pilot. "Digging coal," he
said, and then went >on to explain that the
pieces of coal which drifted down stream
from Wyoming were so numerous as to be
worth dredging. Lumps thus recovered
were regularly used on his steamer, and

100

\

two dealers in Sunbury have a good trade
in them. Water dirt has removed most of
the black luster from the outside.

We were landed at the foot of Sunbury's
principal street, and in a minute were in
the public square in front of the court-
house. The east end of the square is
adorned with a monument to the country's
Civil War dead, surmounted by a statue of
Col. James Cameron, who fell at Bull Run.
He was a brother of Simon Cameron, who,
years before he became famous, set type
in a Northumberland newspaper office.

The several trolley lines of Sunbury cir-
cle the public square. The one which we
took back northward to Northumberland
led us through the historic neighborhoods.
First we saw the old Maclay mansion, al-
ready mentioned. Then our car passed the
old Hunter mansion, a solid yellow brick
edihce which stands upon the site of Fort
Augusta. This was one of the chain of de-
fenses erected at the outbreak of the
French and Indian War. It was occupied
from 1755 to 1765, and sheltered many fam-
ilies. It was again garrisoned during the
Revolution, and was a haven when the
"Big Runaway" occurred— a panic-stricken
flight which emptied the valleys of both
branches of their settlers.

The fort, which was named for the
mother of George III, was a military work
of considerable size, but not a trace re-
mains except the old magazine, built part-
ly underground and hidden beneath a
grassy mound, now used for cold storage
by the occupants of the house. A subter-
ranean passage to the river is said to ex-
ist, but it has never been found.

The Indian village and the burial ground
where Shikellimy was placed are just
north of the fort site. A little farther
on was "Bloody Spring," where the garri-
son got water. The railroad tracks have
destroyed it, but cannot make away with
the stories of danger which once encom-
passed it. A soldier was killed there in
1756.

An old cannon from Fort Augusta was
for many years an object of rivalry be-
tween Sunbury and her neighbors. It was
recovered from the river in 1798. Muncy

101

had it for awhile, and in Selin's Grove and
New Berlin it lay hidden, but the strata-
gems of the Sunbury lads always brought
it back and defeated the frequent efforts
to abduct it. A party from Danville was
the last to attempt it, and since then the
old gun has remained with the local fire
company.

The 65 miles of the Susquehanna be-
tween Wilkesbarre and this place, though
not wanting in beauty of scenery, has not
been rendered as interesting by historical
events. The region mainly continued a
wilderness until after the Revolution, and
so escaped Indian disasters, although it
had echoes of Wyoming's troubles. One of
the last attacks of Indians along the Sus-
quehanna occurred on July 26, 1782, oppo-
site Catawissa and 20 miles above North-
umberland. Three brothers, named Furry,
were away from home, and the redskins
killed their parents and two sisters and
carried away a younger brother. Many
years later two of the brothers were in
Montreal on a visit and accidentally dis-
covered their missing brother. He had be-
come a prosperous Canadian trader.

Of the scenery of the day's trip there is
much to be said, especially of the first
part, where the hills were high and rugged
and the river narrow. The mountains be-
low Nanticoke, which mark the termina-
tion of the Valley of Wyoming, bear the
same relation to the Susquehanna as do the
Highlands below West Point to the Hud-
son. The river cuts through a narrow
gorge, which continues half a dozen miles
to Shickshinny. On the right is Shick-
shinny Mountain, and on the left Nanti-
coke Mountain. The majesty of the hills
so hems in the river and its valley that it
seemed easily possible to throw a stone
from one side to the crag opposite. Into
the narrow space was compressed not only
the river, but a canal and two railroads.
The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western
hugs the north, or right, bank all the way
down to Northumberland, while the Penn-
sylvania Company's line from Wilkesbarre
to Sunbury is on the opposite side. One of
the finest series of rapids in the river is
that called Nanticoke Falls. And on the

102

rugged mountain sides are many pictur-
esque scenes. Little mountain si reams, full
of cascades and fine rocks, drop into the
river at short intervals. Upon a knoll on
the south side, where the hills barely
make room. Luzerne county has built two
big buildings for its poor and its insane.

The narrow mountain pass ends in a
blaze of glory at Shickshinny, where five
different spurs come to the river's edge and
make their bow to each other. The village
of Shickshinny is located in the hollow
formed by two of these ranges, and
through it runs Shickshinny creek, which
tumbles down a gorge witli the echo of
several waterfalls behind it. By some
Shickshinny is said to mean in Indian
phrase "quick dashing water." By others
it is said to be "where five mountains
meet." Both are apt guesses.

At Shickshinny the river makes a sharp
turn south, and so continues for six miles
to Wapwallopen. where it again swerves
westward. The left bank for this six miles
is closely bounded by the Wapwallopen
hill, which terminates above the village of
Wapwallopen in a vigorous and grand
rocky front, 900 feet high, known as "Pul-
pit Koek" — "Kansal Kopf" it was called
by some German pioneers. It is a fine out-
look, for the mountains diminish below
Wapwallopen, and the remainder of our
journey was through a rich agricultural
region: with hills, it is true, but neither
high nor steep, and set back in a way to
invite farmers to the intervales.

Wapwallopen means "where the messen-
ger was murdered," and is said to have
been first applied after the killing of
Thomas Hill, a messenger to Wyoming
from the Governor of Pennsylvania. It is
chiefly of interest as the site of big pow-
der mills, operated for the last 40 years by
the Du Fonts, of Wilmington. The rolling
mills and hydraulic presses have a capac-
ity of 1.000 kegs daily. They are scattered
along the gorge of Wapwallopen creek,
very much as the Du Pouts' Delaware mills
are scattered along the Brandywine.

All through the region the shoal waters
offer special inducements for eel catching.
Weirs or traps— slight stone structures, an-

103

gular in shape— draw the descending cur-
rent and its finny freight into an apex,
where the slippery gentry are easily se-
cured. Bass and pike also bring many
anglers to the river here.

Berwick, which is 27 miles below Wilkes-
barre. on the north bank, is a busy place
of 3.000 people, kept active by the large
Jackson & Woodin Car Manufacturing
Works and by smaller factories. The town
stands on a bluff and only a few of the
houses can be seen from the railroad
tracks. It is a\ place of attractive streets
and neat homes. Many of the workmen
live at Nescopeck, a smaller town across
the river, where Peter Frederick Rother-
mel, a distinguished painter of historical
scenes, was born in 1817. Nescopeck was
once the residence of "Old King Nuti-
mus,"" a Delaware Indian, who was
wealthy and had a lot of negro slaves.

Bloomsburg, a town of 5,000 persons, 40
miles from Wilkesbarre, in every way bears
the impress of a prosperous place. Its
streets are broad, well shaded and graded,
thoroughly sewered aud underlaid witn
steam heating pipes, supplying private
houses. It has a varied lot of factories and
is the county seat of Columbia, one of the
richest agricultural counties of Pennsylva-
nia. The enterprise of its people 30 years
ago secured the location of a State normal
school here. It is situated on a hillside just
east of the town and has commodious build-
ings and grounds.

Bloomsburg lies about a mile back from
the north bank of the river, beside Fishing
creek. The valley of this creek is used
by a railroad, which reaches Lake Ganoga
and the lumber regions of Sullivan county.

In the Civil War Bloomsburg suddenly
sprang into unenviable notoriety by a re-
port that up Fishing creek dissatisfied
Northerners and Confederates who had se-
cretly corne from Canada had erected a fort
and were planning a movement to capture
this part of the Susquehanna Valley. In
reality there was nothing more than some
disaffection over the draft law. But hun-
dreds of Federal soldiers were hurried here
by Major-Generals Couch and Cadwallader.
No fort was ever found, but 45 men were

10+

arrested. It forms a picturesque incident,
occurring as it did in the heart of an old-
line Union State.

The great ice glacier, which geologists say
at one time covered the upper half of this
continent, rested its lower edge across the
Susquehanna near Blobmsburg. There are
many evidences of its great terminal mo-
raine— heaps of sand, gravel and bowlders.
There is a gravel bed 175 feet thick below
Bloomsburg.

Catawissa, the only town of any size on
the south bank between Wilkesbarre and
Sunbury, is 4 miles below Bloomsburg and
21 above Sunbury. It is often said of a
town that it "nestles among the hills," but
Catawissa really does it. It is in a "pocket."
Above and below steep bluffs overhang the
river, while behind the town is Catawissa
Mountain.

There was an Indian village at Catawissa
200 years ago, of which Lapackpitton, a Del-
aware, was the chief. It became a Quaker
settlement more than a century ago and
the square log meeting-house then erected
is still standing. It is on a knoll a short
distance from the confluence of Catawissa
creek and the Susquehanna. Its weather-
beaten appearance and the evident age of
its graveyard and surrounding trees invest
it with a charm which is heightened when
we are told that it was the .first house of
worship between Wyoming and Sunbury.

Catawissa is the point at which the Phil-
adelphia and Reading road, from Tamaqua
to Williamsport, crosses the Susquehanna.
It is related of this line that its route was
surveyed as early as 1822 with no other in-
strument than a crude level made of tin
tubes with vials of water, and that the
course thus laid out amid mountains was
considered a marvel by the engineers who
built the road. The work was done by
Christian Brobst, of Catawissa, a man of
limited schooling.

There is a large paper mill at Catawissa,
which has been in operation since 1811. In
this, in railroad shops, in a foundry, a
broom and a shoe factory the 2,000 inhabit-
ants of Catawissa find employment.

Danville, 12 miles above Sunbury, as thf
site of the Montour Iron Works, once held

105

a front place among iron towns. Its blast
furnaces were big ones, ami its rolling
mills annually turned out thousands and
thousands of tons. The ore was mined in
the hills seven miies away and brought by
a narrow-gauge road. Now the mines are
closed and the furnaces in ruins, because
of the cheaper production of pig iron else-
where. The rolling mills still continue, and
other industries have been brought in to
keep the population. Besides, as the seat
of Montour county, Danville has the trade
of a large farming community.

On a hill near Danville Michael J. Grove,
one of the "iron kings," built a .$300,000
residence, which is pointed out as one of
the finest in Pennsylvania. The home of
another dead ironmaster, Thomas Beaver,
has been bought by the Sisters of Mercy
for a home for aged and friendless women.
Mr. Beaver, about 15 years ago, gave $100,-
000 for a fine free library. In many other
ways he was Danville's benefactor.

A mile east of Danville is located an im-
mense State insane asylum, a building of
blue stone. 1,143 feet long. Danville was
selected for it in 1872. It has extensive
grounds.

Danville was laid out in 1792 by Daniel
Montgomery, afterward a militia general
and member of Congress. He had lived
near there since he was a boy of 10. It is
related of him that when he was 13 he saw
a canoe floating down the river and swam
out to get it, but was surprised to find an
Indian lying flat in it, with bow and arrow
in his hand. "Dan" jumped back, of course,
but finally ventured to approach again, and
found that the Indian was dead. It was
subsequently learned that the redskin had
been one of those in the massacre of Wy-
oming. He had returned to the valley in
the following year, was recognized and
killed, while on his breast this pass was
pinned: "Let the bearer go to his master,
King George, or the devil."

106

XIII.

DOWN THE WEST BRANCH.

Sunbtjky, Northumberland County,
Pa., Sept. 2.— These last four days have
been ones of hurry and hustle. For since
I described the meeting of the main stream
with the West Branch, I have been to the
headwaters of the West Branch and have
come the length of the stream.

While a hasty trip, enough was seen to
enable me to guess at the wonderful fu-
ture of the West Branch. It is just be-
ginning to wake up, and, like a boyish
giant, the region has not yet learned the
measure of its owu strength. Parts of its
course are still practically in a wilderness,
and it is only within the decade that men
of wealth and energy really started to un-
cover the vast resources of soft coal around
Clearfield. The forests are greatly thinned,
though it will be many a day before the
lumbermen must desert the West Branch.
Yet in their footsteps the miners are
eager to tread and behind the man with
the pick is the man with money and
brains. Cities and populous towns seem
sure to spring up.

The source of the West Branch is in
Cambria county, in Southwestern Pennsyl-
vania. This is on the west slope of the Al-
leghanies, a high and broken tableland
between the Alleghanies and a long outer
ridge known as the Laurel Hill. The
southern end of Cambria county became
prosperous and well-settled when the main
line of the Pennsylvania Railroad was run
through it (JO years ago. Johnstown is in
its farther corner, and Cresson Springs,
the famous mountain resort, is near its
eastern line. But the north end of Cam-
bria long remained either in forest or

107

scantily cleared for cattle or for crops of
oats, rye and potatoes. In addition to the
West Branch, two of its tributaries, Clear-
field and Chest creeks, rise in the county,
and with their aid the forests have been
turned into lumber and sent to Eastern
cities.

It was at Cresson that we changed cars
on Monday for a ride of 11 miles on a
branch road to Ebensburg, Cambria's
county town, which is situated on a high
ridge and commands broad and striking
views. One of its peculiarities is that the
sun sinks in the West below the level of
the observer in its main street. The set-
tlement of Ebensburg by Welsh people in
1796— immigrants who named both county
and town— gave it a quaint flavor which
has never been lost, as the characteristics
of its founders are by many preserved, and
the Welsh tongue can be heard in homes
and in the churches. From its elevated
position it enjoys a peculiarly cool and
healthful atmosphere— always pleasant in
summer— and this brings many visitors
The town contains a foundry, tanneries
several factories and excellent schools.

Side by side with these Welsh Presby-
terians Providence early planted a vigor-
ous offshoot of Catholicism. Loretto— the
town founded in a wilderness by that re-
markable man, Father Gallitzin, who gave
up a Russian princely title and patrimony
to become an humble priest— is six miles
northeast of Ebensburg. The church at
Loretto was, in 1800, the only house of
God between Harrisburg and St. Louis,
but by incredible labor and hardship and
the use of means given by his sister,
Father Gallitzin colonized much of Cam-
bria county, established schools, churches
and religious houses and created an in-
fluential centre for the religion he so
loved. Next month the people of the vicin-
ity propose to do honor to his memory by
gathering at Loretto at the unveiling of a
fine statue of him.

Many of the settlers brought by Prince
Gallitzin were from Maryland and a vil-
lage near the source of the Susquehanna
bears the name of Archbishop John Car-
roll, of Baltimore, the first Catholic prel-

108

ate of the United States and Father Gal-
litzin's preceptor.

The dividing ridge between the waters
that flow to the Gulf of Mexico and those
that reach the Atlantic by way of the
Susquehanna is very narrow in Cambria.
The waters interlock in alternate dells.
On the railroad four miles before I
reached Ebensburg I was shown a tiny
rivulet on one side of the track which
went west and south to New Orleans,
while a similar stream on the other side
was carried into the Susquehanna. So,
too, in driving from Ebensburg to Carroll-
town I was shown a barn whose peaked
roof parted the rain waters and determined
their journey.

When we had crossed a hill about eight
miles from Ebensburg my driver said:
"There is the Susquehanna." Honestly,
it seemed laughable to me. The stream
was a tiny bit of a thing, half a dozen feet
wide, and I could not associate it with the
mighty river whose width in places is two
and three miles and whose volume is im-
mense. At Otsego there had been a lake
to give a goodly start, but the West
Branch has nothing but springs for a foun-
tain head and grows but slowly. In Cam-
bria county it is 2,000 feet above the sea
level and is truly a mountain stream.

For its first dozen miles the West
Branch is followed by another Pennsyl-
vania branch railroad from Cresson and
by this means I reached Cherry Tree,
which lies at the meeting place of the
three counties of Cambria, Clearfield and
Indiana, but whicb. after much talk, was
adjudged to the last named. Cherry Tree
has had three names. Its postoffice is
called Grant, and in pioneer days it was
Canoe Place. As the farthest point up
stream accessible by canoe it was an im-
portant spot and an Indian village was
there. Trails led west to Kittanning on the
Allegheny river and another trail went up
the West Branch and across the moun-
tains, near what is now Horseshoe Curve.
In all early State deeds Canoe Place, as
the best known spot on the upper West
Branch, played an important part.

For nearly 70 miles from Cherry Tree the
Susquehanna courses through Clearfield

109

county, which only 10 years ago was de-
scribed as '"a wide forest country," but
which has now had its awakening. It is
really amazing to see how the deposits of
soft coal have caused the construction of
miles of new railroad and the projection of
many more miles. The Clearfield coal basin
is at least an area of 5,000 square miles,
and its richness is such that at places there
are no less than 12 seams of coal of an av-
erage thickness of four feet. Into this area
seven railroads now enter, and almost daily
there are items concerning the purchase of
big tracts by capitalists or announcements
that the railroads are ready to make exten-
sions, upon which engineers and surveyors
are hard at work.

Three of these railroads enter Clearfield,
the county seat, which is almost in the
centre of the county, and which seems des-
tined to be the metropolis of the upper
West Branch. It is situated picturesquely
amid high hills in a narrow valley, and is
an attractive town, with wide shaded
streets, pleasant homes, good public build-
iugs, schools and churches and a little park.
In addition to its immense coal trade it has
a machine shop, a foundry, lumber manu-
factures and a plant for making firebrick
of a superior grade of clay from the neigh-
borhood. It is coincident with the site of
an Indian village known as Chinklaca-
moose. and the clearings made by the red
men are said to have given rise to the
newer name. An Indian hermit at one time
lived near there, who is said to have fright-
ened away many of his color by well-timed
apparitions, and it is explained thatChink-
lacamoose means "no one tarries here will-
ingly." In the French and Indian war a
brigade of French troops from Fort Du-
quesne gathered there for an expected de-
scent upon the lower Susquehanna towns.
Clearfield town's three railroads are the
Pennsylvania, the New York Central and
the so-called Brice line, the Buffalo, Roches-
ter and Pittsburg. The Pennsylvania
branch comes from the south, from its
main line at Tyrone, and was the first road
into the "back country." The Brice line is
from the northwest, while the New York
Central is the owner of the Beech Creek

110

road from Williamsport. It runs up as far
as Lock Haven by the river, and then enters
the mountains.

In other parts of the Clearfield region
there are lines almost too plentiful to
enumerate. The Pennsylvania has many
branches tapping its main line at Cresson,
Tyrone or Altoona. The Beech Creek and
Briee systems have spurs to old and new
mines. The West Branch Valley is also
intersected or traversed for short distances
by the Pittsburg and Eastern and the
Pennsylvania and Northwestern roads,
while in still other parts of the county
are the Altoona and Phillipsburg and the
Allegheny Valley routes, all aiding to carry
out to the world the lumber and soft coal
of the Clearfield region.

My trip along the West Branch through
Clearfield county was certainly varied.
Tart of the way I had to "leg" it, though
for a few miles below Mahaffey and again
above Clearfield trains were available for
short distances. The '•tramps-' were en-
joyable for the insight which I got into a
new country. So many creeks came into
the river that it soon grew appreciably and
was a rapid stream rushing through a val-
ley of rich bottom land between hills of
good size, though irregular in outline. The
valley was rather broad until Clearfield was
reached. The mining towns and railroad
junctions were "raw" in their newness,
but the older villages— places that have
grown out of lumber camps, like Curwens-
ville, were staid and pleasant enough. Cur-
wensville is Clearfield's rival. It has a
couple of thousand inhabitants, with tan-
neries, foundries and woolen mills and con-
siderable trade with miners and farmers.

Below Clearfield railroads stay near the
river for a mile or two, but soon make off
to the southeast. For 30 miles thereafter
the whistle of the locomotive is not heard
beside the Susquehanna, though the Buf-
falo, Rochester and Pittsburg system pro-
poses to parallel the river with a road
which will extend their line eastward to
Williamsport.

The region is yet practically a wilderness
as far as Karthaus. There is a big lumber
trade, to be sure, but the population is

111

scant, save in the lively spring days, and
the settlements are insignificant and scat-
tered. Doubtless beneath the surface great
wealth lies, or the railroad would not be
run.

The scenery began to assume a bolder
aspect as we neared the Alleghanies. The
valley narrowed and in places almost dis-
appeared in high, rugged hills, between
which the river was hemmed into a gorge.
The stream was rather tortuous in its
course, alternately sweeping toward the
middle of the narrow valley, and then hug-
ging the high forest-crowned hills.

Frenehville is a settlement about 20
miles below Clearfield. It was made in
1832 by parties from Normandy and Pi-
cardy, through the exertions of M. Zavron,
a wealthy Parisian who had become pos-
sessed of much land thereabouts through
the failure of a Philadelphia banker.

The railroad which we met at Karthaus
cannot be called much of a one. It runs
one train for passengers three times a
week, taking them down the river to .Keat-
ing, where a transfer is made to the Phila-
delphia and Erie Railroad, which had faith-
fully followed the West Branch up stream,
but which there turns up Sinnemahoning
creek, in order to cross the oil regions and
reach Lake Erie.

Karthaus was founded in 1814 by Peter
Karthaus. a German, who afterward be-
came a merchant of Baltimore. He was
attracted by the iron ores of the vicinity
and erected a furnace, which, being in
then unbroken wilds, finally succumbed.
Coal is now the source of the town's ac-
tivity.

Fifty years ago the 65 miles of the West
Branch, from Keating to Williamsport,
were as wild and scantily populated as the
region just above Karthaus still continues.
The building of the Philadelphia and Erie
Road, now a part of the Pennsylvania sys-
tem, was the elixir of life for the valley.
By it Williamsport was transformed from
a straggling county town of slow7 growth
into a thriving and wealthy city. Not con-
tent with this, the railroad made Lock
Haven an energetic town. Jersey Shore
and other hamlets lively boroughs and

112

created Renovo in a farmer's lieltl by plac-
ing railroad shops there. Today Williams-
port numbers at least 35,000 souls; Lock
Haven, 24 miles up, has 10,000, and Re-
novo, 28 miles beyond Lock Haven, half
that number.

All these cities and towns are located in
the midst of beautiful mountain scenery,
for they are on the West Branch in the
region where it is engaged in breaking
through the rugged Alleghauies. The moun-
tains are bold, high and abrupt, and being
densely wooded to their summits with pine
and hemlock have a softness and somber-
ness of outline that is attractive, though
possibly monotonous. Until the river has
fairly pierced the mountains, it is often
cribbed and confined, with scarcely an
inch of room. After this feat has been
accomplished it seems content to come
through a fertile valley to Williamsport,
first choosing the centre of the cultivated
land, then heading over to the base of a
steep ridge.

Renovo is built in an oval-shaped valley,
about a mile and a half in length, formed
by a division of the mountains. Lock
Haven is amid rugged hills, on the right
bank of the river, about two miles above
the mouth of Bald Eagle creek, getting its
name from the circumstance of being be-
tween two locks on the old Pennsylvania
canal. Williamsport is also surrounded by
hills. Bald Eagle Mountain shutting it in
on the south and various broken ridges 'ic-
ing equally zealous to the north.

Lumbering still continues a source of
great wealth for the people of the West
Branch down as far as Williamsport.
While the immediate valley has been
thinned out, there are vast quantities of
timber upon its many streams and
branches, and in the spring logging and
rafting makes the swrollen river lively.
There was a time when each forest had its
little sawmill, where the lumber was pre-
pared before being rafted down to market.
Then Lock Haven and Williamsport got
the lion's share by their great "booms."
whose dams permitted the unsawed logs
to float down stream singly. Now the en-
trance of railroads is again giving the up-

113

per settlements a chance— a last chance,
in fact, for lumbering is doomed on the
West Branch just as it was half a century
ago on the main stream.

One melancholy sight along the West
Branch is the many dead standing pines.
Tbe first settlers, when lumber was too
cheap to pay for sending it down stream,
often lopped off all limbs for home con-
sumption and let the tall tree stand deso-
lated, then die, then rot. It now robs the
forest of much picturesqueness'.

Lock Haven is said to handle 35,000,000
feet of lumber annually and Williamsport
eight or nine times that amount. The
masses of logs in the big booms at both
places arc a sight, indeed. At Williams-
port they often extend up several miles,
and are so thickly jammed that one could
walk from shore to shore, though I did not
try it.

Lock Haven is a town which may be
praised for neatness and comfort. As the
seat of Clinton county it is the centre of a
farming as well as lumbering community.
A State normal school is located there.
In addition to its saw and planing mills,
there are tanneries, machine shops and
plants for making paper, firebrick, sewer
pipe and cigars. In Revolutionary days it
was the site of a fort for defense, usually
known as Reed's, because William Reed
and five sons formed the chief garrison.
Great Island, two miles below Lock Ha
ven, had its share of the events of pioneer
days, as is shown by the chronicles of J. N.
Meginness, of Williamsport.

Mr. Meginness, among many other things,
has preserved some of the traditions of
Young Woman's creek, which joins the
Susquehanna not far from Renovo. It is
said that the creek derived its name from
the suicide of a beautiful Indian girl, who
threw herself into the water when her
father would not let her marry the brave
she loved. Again, it is said to have been
the grave of a captive white girl, who
found it her only means of escape from
savages, and the legend says the ghost of
the girl made the creek a dreaded one to
the Indians.

Farrandsville, five miles above Lock Ha-
ven, is pointed out as an early example of

114

the misdirected use of capital. In 1830
William P. Farrand interested some Bos-
ton merchants in a company to exploit the
coal found here and to use it in many
manufactures on the spot. Seven hundred
thousand dollars is said to have been ex-
pended before it was seen that the "Ly-
coming Coal Company" would not be prof-
itable. Today lumber, firebrick and coal
just keep the village alive.

Jersey Shore, at the mouth of Pine creek,
13 miles below Lock Haven, was to have
been called Waynesburg, but the first set-
tlers were two brothers from New Jersey,
and that fixed the name. On July 4, 1776-'
the day the Declaration of Independence
was adopted in Philadelphia— there was a
gathering of the Pine Creek settlers near
Jersey Shore. They had heard that inde-
pendence was being debated in the Conti-
nental Congress, and they, too, made their
declaration, though it was not until some
weeks later they learned of the coincidence
in dates.

The title to that portion of the valley
fr<»m Jersey Shore to Williamsport was in
dispute for a number of years, and there
was no organized local government. The
"squatters,': however, antedated the vigi-
lance committees of California by having
a committee of three men to decide all dis-
putes and punish all crimes. Their decisions
were enforced by the neighbors en masse.
These "squatters" became widely known
as "fair-play men," and there is preserved
the retort which one of them gave years
afterward to a chief justice of Pennsylva-
nia, who asked him about the system:
"We had fair play then, Your Honor; now
we have only law."

Williamsport was laid out in 1795 by
Michael Ross, and was made the seat of
Lycoming county. It was placed where
once had stood the village of "French Mar-
garet," a half-breed, who ruled her Indian
followers with prohibition ideas, no rum
being allowed within its bounds. The city
site was also the scene of the massacre of
seven persons on June 10, 1778. Two chil-
dren taken captive then were subsequently
restored to their father through a chain of
romantic circumstances.

115

Ross named Williamsport for a son. and
laid it out with liberal notions that have
ever since prevailed— generous space for
public buildings, broad streets and a well-
designed plan. Today the city has many
charms. Lumber gave it wealth, and that
wealth has been and is being used to de-
velop many other industries. The stores
and office buildings are mainly of a kind
that larger cities might envy, and Fourth
street, leading from the business section
to the Philadelphia and Erie Depot, is
lined with residences that are both costly
and tasteful in their surroundings. The
corners are taken up by church edifices
that should cause shame to metropolitan
congregations, designed with merit and
handsomely built of stone. The Federal
Building, in the elbow of Fourth street, is
especially fine to look upon. The hills north
of the city are dotted with the villas of
wealthy men. and the suburbs in that di-
rection, some of them surrounding a new
park, are being rapidly developed oy
means of si reel railways.

Williamsport was made a city in 18GG.
Its streets are not cobbled, but paved with
wood, brick or asphalt. Its water supply
conies from mountain springs, piped be-
neath the river. It has gas, electric and
steam-heating plants. There are three
parks in all and two popular race-courses.
The churches are set off by various public
charities. In addition to the graded pub-
lic schools there is Dickinson Seminary,
a well-known co-educational institution
founded in 1847.

The railroads make Williamsport impor-
tant. Along the Susquehanna Valley from
the West conie two systems, the New York
Central and the Philadelphia and Erie,
both on the north bank. The Vanderhiit
lines are the old Beech ('reek route from
Clearfield and the former Fall Brook Bail-
road from Geneva, X. Y.. and Corning. N.
Y. These lines terminate here, but the
Philadelphia and Erie goes on down the
river, being paralleled by Philadelphia
and Reading tracks, giving a railroad to
both sides of the river to Sunbury. The
Northern Central road from Lake Ontario
and Elmira joins the Erie tracks to con-

116

tinue southward toward Baltimore. The
Williainsport and North Branch Railroad
runs northeast to Eaglesmere and other
summer resorts of the Pennsylvania moun-
tains.

The West Branch Valley in the 40 miles
from Williamsport to Sunbury was settled
prior to the Revolution and consequently
is more abundant in historical tales than
the upper portion. It is a remarkably fer-
tile and highly productive country and
presents a delightful appearance in the
summer months. The first settlers included
many Germans and the big red barns and
neat homes arc of frequent occurrence. A
series of growing towns are there— Mon-
toursville, Muncy. Montgomery, Watson-
town, Milton and Lewisburg.

Of these Milton is decidedly the busiest
and largest. In 1SS2 the place was de-
troyed by fire. It was not only soon rebuilt,
but since that time has quadrupled its size,
so as to now count 8,000 within its bounds.
Its people arc nearly all mill-hands and
foundry-workers, for there are railway car
works,* rolling mills, axle forge, bolt and
nut works, nail factory, washer works, a
large steam tannery, agricultural imple-
ment works, machine shops, planing mills,
sawmills, iron foundries and a fly-net fac-
tory. For the children of these busy la-
borers the school advantages are excellent.
There are 22 graded schools, topped off
with a high school and a library. The
town is, in fact, progressive in every cred-
itable way.

Montoursville was once the home of
Madame Montour, a strange figure in In-
dian history. She was the reputed daugh-
ter of the Marquis de Frontenae, a fa-
mous French Governor of Canada. Her
two husbands were Iroquois chieftains-
Roland Montour, a Seneca, and Caranda-
wana, an Oneida. As a personage of im-
portance among the Indians she was treated
with much ceremony by the colony of Penn-
sylvania and frequently visited Philadel-
phia as its guest. Her son, Andrew Mon-
tour, was a noted Indian scout and inter-
preter for the colony. The notorious Queen
Esther, who massacred 14 men at Wyo-

117

ining, is said to have been a daughter.
Another daughter was Queen Catherine,
whose home was in Central New York.
The family name, evidently one of French
derivation, is preserved hereabouts, in Mon-
toursville, Montour's Ridge and Montour
county.

Near Hall's, a station a few miles east
of Montoursville, and in the midst of old
elms, is a residence built in 1769 by Sam-
uel Wallis, a member of a noted Maryland
family, born in Harford county. Wallis,
who was a Quaker, and who died in 1798,
was one of the most extensive landed pro-
prietors of this country and is said to have
owned a million acres at one time, though
afterward much involved. His estace here
extended for five miles along the river, it
was later owned by Charles Hall and is
known now as the "Hall Farms."

Near Muncy the Susquehanna makes a
splendid southward bend. It had been
flowing eastward for many miles near the
base of Bald EagJe mountain, but now V
sweeps around the base of the mountain in
a majestic curve. The scenery of the
neighborhood is to be commended. Muncy
Valley is broad, undulating, picturesque
and fertile. The White Deer and Nittany
Mountains are on the west side.

Muncjr perpetuates the name of the Mou-
sey tribe, a branch of the Lenni-Lenape,
or Delaware Indians. They dwelt there
for many years. Near the mouth of Muncy
creek are the remains of a semicircular
earthwork fortification of ancient pedigree,
possibly older than the Monseys, perhaps
a creation of the Moundbuilders. At Muncy
in Revolutionary days Capt. John Brady
had a fort and he and his sons displayed
in the vicinity some of that fighting which
made the name famous in American mili-
tary annals. Gen. Hugh Brady, hero of
the battles of Chippewa and Niagara Falls,
was his son. Another son was Capt. Sam-
uel Brady, an Indian fighter renowned in
Southwestern Pennsylvania. A monument
to Captain Brady was erected a few years
ago by the people of Muncy.

Not far away from Watsontown. on War-
rior's run, was Freeland's Fort, which, in

118

the surumer of 1778. was captured by a
party of British and Indians. Many of the
settlers were killed ami the rest carried oft
to Canada.

Lewishurg, which was founded by Lewis
Derr, a German trader, and was early
known as Derr's Town, is the seat of Union
county, and besides various factories, has
a thriving trade with Buffalo and Bonn's
Vaheys, but is chiefly of interest as the site
of Bucknell University, formerly the Uni-
versity of Lewisburg, but changed 15
years ago because of the gifts of William
Bucknell. the Philadelphia philanthropist.
The institution was founded in 1846 by
Baptists, but is now managed on non-sec-
tarian principles. Its buildings are in
shaded grounds in the south end of Lewis-
burg. They include a college for young
men and young women, an academy for
boys, an institute for girls, music and art
schools, a museum, laboratories, a library
of 12,000 volumes and an observatory with
a fine Clarke telescope. The students num-
ber about 3U0, and come from many places.
The endowment is about $350,000, and the
buildings and apparatus are worth as much
more.

Bishop John H. Vincent, of the Methodist
Church, the founder of the Chautauqua
movement, was born across the river from
Lewisburg and attended school there.

As I have been writing this letter to you
my regret at not being able to linger
longer upon the West Branch has grown
greatly. There is so much I might have
seen, but didn't, and so much more I could
have said, but haven't.

119

XIV.

THE PASSING OF THE BOATS.

SUNBUliY, NOKTHUMBEBLAND COUNTY,Pa.

Sept. 3.— Today in glancing over some yel-
low time-stained copies of a Sunbury pa-
per. I was surprised to find this paragraph:

PORT OF SUNBURY.

Sept. 1, 1840.— Cleared— Canal boat Folly, to Balti-
more, with lumber. Entered— Canal boats Gay and
Mary Ann. from Berwick, coal.

It was a paragraph to cause melancholy
reflections. Sunbury's dream of becoming
an inland port long ago faded. The sys-
tem of canals along the Susquehanna was
extensive and had a busy commerce. To-
day the crack of the mule driver's whip
on the towpath is scarcely heard, and it
has been many years since the canals paid
expenses as traffic highways. Many miles
have been abandoned and in the parts still
operated the business is as sluggish as the
water. The steel rail is master of the field
of transportation.

The river has been even more deserted.
The lumber rafts, "keelboats" and "arks'
are no more and the only freight or pas-
senger boats left are the little steamers
that ply for a few miles above or below
an occasional progressive town. The Sus-
quehanna is indeed unnavigable. Its loss
of traffic is to be regretted, for the old or-
der of things had a picturesque side.

It seems absurd now to read the state-
ments of the author of a little book pub-
lished at Philadelphia in 1796. "The de-
sign of these pages," he said by way of
preface, "is to show the importance of
the great national canal— the River Sus-
quehanna; the eligible situation, for the
purposes of trade and manufactures, of
some places <>n its banks and at its mouth;

120

its great connection with the other main
waters of the United States, and the exten-
sive and fertile surface of country from
which it must drain the rich productions of
agriculture and manufactures." Havre de
Grace, at the mouth of the river, was to
be a great port for foreign and inland com-
merce. "The whole trade of this river must
centre at this spot as an entrepot, or place
of exportation. Whatever may be the exer-
tions of E*ennsylvania or the moneyed cap-
ital, Philadelphia, the trade of this river
must ever pursue its natural channel." So!

In the year following this little publica-
tion a Philadelphia company gave a great
impetus to the navigation of the Susque-
hanna by opening a canal one mile long
around the west side of the Conewago
Falls at York Haven. These rapids had
been a great bar to the development of
commerce. In 1771 the Commonwealth
had declared the Susquehanna a public
highway and had made an appropriation to
clear away gravel bars, take out stumps
and trees, open a channel and construct
towing-paths beside the rapids. But the
Conewago Falls still continued perilous for
boatmen. The little canal changed all this.
Within a day or two after it had been
formally opened by Gov. Thomas Mifflin
a German named John Kreider, carrying
flour from the Juniata, passed through and
got a handsome sum for his cargo at Bal-
timore. His success soon became known
the length of the Susquehanna, and for
nearly half a century Baltimore enjoyed
an immense trade of this sort.

These river boats had various types. The
canoe of the Indian was replaced by the
"dugout" of the trader, an imitation of
the Indian craft. About the time of the
Revolution there was introduced the type
known as "keelboats," or as "Durham
boats," the latter from a town on the Del-
aware where the first one was built in
1750. They were 60 or 70 feet long, 8 feet
broud and 2 feet deep, making a carrying
capacity of from 20 to 30 tons. The stem
and bow were sharp and had small decks
on them. A boardwalk or "run" extended
the full length of each side and was used
in "poling" the boat against the current.

121

Masts with two sails were utilized when a
favorable wind blew. A steersman and
two polers on each side constituted the
crew. The journey down to market was
easy, except for the danger of "shooting
the rapids,*' but on the return trip poling
was arduous and the progress was not
much more than a mile an hour.

Fifty years ago, in the spring of 1849, no
less than 2,500 rafts, containing more than
100,000,000 feet of lumber, floated past
Sunbury from the main stream in 26 days,
and many hundreds more from the West
Branch. Today the forests of the main
stream have been practically cleared, and
those left on the West Branch are mostly
floated in single logs to the booms at Lock
Haven and Williamsport. The jolly life
of these lumbermen, their adventures on
the water, their dangers in the rapids— a
life which Willis has pleasingly described—
has passed forever from the Susquehanna.
It had begun on the river about 1795.
^ Steamboats began to be tried on the
Susquehanna when Baltimoreans learned
that Philadelphians were taking steps to
divert the trade of the river valley, for
which there was much rivalry between
the two cities. In 1825 some who were
interested in the development of York
Haven built at York a steamboat named
the "Codorus." It was mainly of sheet
iron, 60 feet long, with a 10-horsepower en-
gine capable of sending it against the cur-
rent four miles an hour. With 50 passen-
gers aboard she drew but 8 Inches of water
and so had every chance of success. Her
builder. John Elgar, a York Quaker, after
testing her thoroughly between York
Haven and Harrisburg, started up the
river in the spring of 1826. He was wel-
comed with many demonstrations at vari-
ous towns, got as far as tfinghamton and
returned in safety to York Haven, but re
ported to his employers that navigation
would not pay, as it was practicable for
only a few months in eacn year because of
tlie shallowness of the Susquehanna.

Another attempt in the same year result-
ed in a terrible disaster, which put an end
to such experiments for a number of years.
The steamer ■'Susquehanna," built at Bai-

122

timore, was 82 feet long and drew 22
inches of water, causing her more diffi-
culty than the "Codorus." She went past
Sunbury and up as far as Berwick, but her
boilers exploded as she was endeavoring to
mount Nescopeck Rapids on May 3, 1826,
and her passengers and crew were hurled
high in the air, to the horror of a crowd
of spectators. Many were killed and many
others scalded or otherwise injured.

In 1834 citizens of Owego built another
"Susquehanna," a strong, well-made craft,
which covered the 100 miles down stream
to Wilkesbarre in eight hours. Nathaniel
P. Willis, the author, was on board and
has recorded an entertaining account of
the trip. On her second trip the steamer
had an accident at Nanticoke and was
abandoned.

The largest steamer on the river was
the "Wyoming," launched in 1849 at Tunk-
bannock. She was 12S feet long and 22
feet beam. For three years she carried
coal from Wilkesbarre up to Athens and
other places whenever there was sufficient
water, which was not often enough to
make the boat pay. In 1851 an attempt
was made by residents of Bainbridge, N.
Y. A boat named "The Enterprise," 100
feet long, with engines of 40-horsepower,
paid her owners $3,000 in a three-months'
season of high water carrying coal from
Wilkesbarre to Athens. But when the
river found its usual low-water mark, the
"Enterprise" was high and dry on the
sbore. Her machinery rusted, the sun's
rays opened her seams and, like the "Wy-
oming," she soon became unfit for service.
I cannot here retail the history of the
Susquehanna's canals. Fifty million dol-
lars or more were spent upon them by the
Slate of Pennsylvania or by corporations,
and at one time there were nearly 400
miles of waterways along the Susquehanna
and another 400 miles upon its tributaries.
Ik the "era of internal improvement" the
river was to be the great key to Pennsyl-
vania's development and to form part of
a ureat inland water route by which the
products of the growing West were to
reach Philadelphia or Baltimore.

123

The canal at Conewago Falls was the
first. The second was the "Old Maryland
Canal," which was begun in 1796 and com-
pleted in 1805. It extended from the Mary-
land line down the east bank to Port De-
posit. It was too narrow to be a money-
maker, and soon passed out of existence.

The third Susquehanna Canal, and the
one which really gave the great impetus
to the building of the chain of those in
Pennsylvania, was the so-called Union
Canal, from Middletown, on the Susque-
hanna, up Swatara creek, down Tulpe-
hocken creek to Reading, on the Schuyl-
kill, a distance of 82 miles. It was begun
in 1819.

Along the Susquehanna there were canals
from Athens to the Chesapeake, nearly
300 miles. Of these the State in 1826-30
built the various sections from Wilkes-
barre to Columbia. The continuation to
the Chesapeake was made by a Maryland
company, who had many difficulties and
were obliged to expend $4,000,000 to con-
struct 45 miles. The portion north from
Pittston to Athens, though originally
planned by the State, was, after many
years, carried out by a company of wealthy
coal-mine owners, who believed they fore-
saw a fine opportunity to send coal to
the West and to New York city up the
Susquehanna and thence across New York
State to the Erie Canal. Their canal was
nut done until 1858, and by that time the
railroads were evidently destined to con-
quer all, so this part was not long used.
The route was up the Susquehanna to
Athens, then up the Chemung to Elmira
and through Seneca lake.

on the West Branch of the Susquehanna
there was a canal from Northumberland to
Farrandsville. with extensions to Sinne-
mahoning creek and up Bald Eagle creek
to Belief onte. On other branches and trib-
utaries there were canals as follows: The
Chenango river, 97 miles from Birming-
ham, constructed by the State of New
York in 1833 to tap the Erie Canal at
Utica; the Chemung and Swatara routes,
already mentioned; Conestoga creek, up to
Lancaster from the river; Codorus creek,
up to York; Wisconisco creek, into the Ly-
kens Valley coal region; and, most impor-
124

taut of all, the Juniata division of 127
miles from Duncan's Island up to Holli-
daysburg, where it connected with the old
Portage Railroad across the Alleghany
Mountains. It was by this route Charles
Dickens went West on the trip described
in his "American Notes."

In 1858 Pennsylvania sold its canals, at
a loss of many millions, to various railroad
companies. Today the Pennsylvania Rail-
road operates all in use along the Susque-
hanna. They include from Nanticoke to
Columbia, 145 miles; on the West Branch,
from Northumberland to Montoursville, 35
miles, and on the Juniata, from Duncan's
Island to Newtown Hamilton, 05 miles.
From last year's report I learn that 208,-
!>93 tons of freight were handled in all,
chiefly lumber and coal. The expenses of
operating were .$12,040 more than the re-
ceipts. In addition the default on taxes
and interest was $150,000 more.

Of fanciful ideas concerning the part the
river was destined to play in navigation,
none was more odd than that which con-
structed a shipbuilding plant at Wilkes-
barre. There have been boatbuilding yards
of considerable size at Beach Haven, at
Lewisburg and .other places on the river,
but the idea at Wilkesbarre was to build
seagoing vessels. In 1803 a sloop of 12
tons was successfully launched and safely
piloted to the Chesapeake. This exploit
of the "John Franklin" caused a company
which in 1812 built a schooner of 50 or 60
tons drawing four feet of water. This
was launched amid much enthusiasm in
Wyoming Valley and was named "The Lu-
zerne of Wilkesbarre." It passed down
stream to the Conewago Falls, but those
menacing rapids dashed the Luzerne to
pieces on their jagged rocks. With it
many hopes were also dashed to pieces.

There is just one thought I wish to ad-
vance for serious consideration. Would
not the .$50,000,000 spent on canals have
sufficed to make the Susquehanna navi-
gable through dredging and blasting? It
was a plan which had many advocates be-
fore the canals were adopted. If it had
been chosen, Wilkesbarre and Sunbury and
many other river towns might have gone
down to tlie sea in ships.
125

XV.

A NOBLE WATER GAP.

Harrisburg, Dauphin County, Pa., Sept.
4.— The gap in the Blue Mountains through
which the Susquehanna forced its way to
the sea ages ago is in plain view from Har-
risburg, and presents a fine appearance.
But to see properly the beauty of the big
river's passage through the mountains it is
necessary to come with the river from
above.

The Indians rightfully named those blue
ridges yonder Kittatiuny, or the "endless
hills." They line up across Pennsylvania
and into New Jersey, and the gap which is
made by the Susquehanna here is repeated
by the Lehigh and by the Delaware.

Good fortune has enabled me to see
these three water gaps within a few weeks.
The Delaware one is, indeed, picturesque
and grand, but there is more majesty in
the gap of the Susquehanna. The Dela-
ware river is, perhaps, 100 yards broad,
and makes a placid lake-like curve between
the towering heights of Mount Minsi and
Mount Tammany. The Susquehanna is
nearly a mile broad, and sweeps onward
with resistless flow, as if to say "I will
tear away the whole mountain if you dare
try and stop me ere I reach the sea."

On each side, as seen from here, the
ridge seems to bend, then bow low, then
disappear beneath the horizon for the on-
coming of the Susquehanna. The gap is
often likened to the Rhine at Andernach.

In the heart of this Susquehanna Water
Gap the Pennsylvania Railroad's main line
to the west crosses the river from the base
of one wood-covered mountain to another,
and the view from its long bridge is one
well remembered. The river is shallow,

126

and tumbles noisily and foamingly over
masses of low, jagged rocks. Other moun-
tains jut out and shut in the view up the
river. Below, the spires and taller build-
ings of Harrisburg are seen.

Had you come with us from Sunbury
above, you would have seen the Susque-
hanna pierce not one but several mountain
ridges, the Northern Central train running
close to the river around the foot of steep
mountains for a dozen miles. There are at
least four ridges, and those nearest Har-
risburg arc respectively known as First
Mountain, Second Mountain and Third
Mountain, while Peter's Mountain is the
long ridge first seen from the north as we
approached the continence of the Juniata,
and which is followed for a mile or so by
the river before it bends and breaks
through. The ride through the gap is a
delightful one to any lover of bold scenery.
You have hardly gotten a good survey ot
some frowning ridge before the train has
swept around a curve and you see another
and more towering height beyond. On your
right is the broad, grand river, and beyond,
on the west bank— from Duncannon to
Marysville— are freight and express trains
of the Pennsylvania's main line, engaged,
as you are, in hurrying through the moun-
tains toward Harrisburg.

At one point in the mountain pass, on the
west side, the ridge of one high hill curves
to meet another ridge and incloses a val-
ley in a horseshoe shape. There is no way
out save by the Susquehanna, and the val-
ley is a veritable little world by itself.
Sheltered as it is from the fury of wind
and storm, it was early compared by Ger-
man visitors to the safe harbors of the
sea, and by them was named "The Cove."

The 60 miles of the river between Sun-
bury and Harrisburg afford many pleasing
pictures. The river is broad for the whole
length, and in every view there is that
grateful sensation of distance and space,
the same feeling which gives rise to the
pleasure of wide-reaching panoramas com-
manded from mountain tops. The upper
waters are picturesque, yet confined. Here
it is a mile to the opposite bank, and the

127

shallow waters usually possess serenity
and majesty, though there are more rapids
than in any other part of the river and
more islands than one can count.

Near Georgetown we saw a herd of cat-
tle far out in the river, which was so shal-
low that half their bodies were exposed.
They seemed like little groups (if islands,
and it was only when some of them moved
that we realized what they were. There is
a well-known picture of cows seeking re-
lief from a summer's heat in a broad
stream, and I at oner bethought myself
of it. At Liverpool, a few miles below, the
low water revealed wide stretches of river
grass. The river there was especially
pleasing. The waters possessed a lake form
that was well set off by varied island
groups, far off interlacing hills and nearer
headlands.

The Northern Central Railroad stays
close by the river's cast bank from Sun-
bury. The mountains forming the water
gap are not the only ones along the river
for this distance, and there are many high,
rocky cuts and curves in the sides of
Mahantongo and Berry's Mountains. Often
the train dashes past some narrow ravine,
in which a little cascade conies down,
foamy white. Then huue walls of rock
tower hi.^h, or else have fissures at then-
bases in such fashion as to make caverns
of some depth.

The mountains back of the river on the
east side are rich with hard coal, and the
towns on the railroad— Herndon, George-
town and Millersburg— are, like Sunbury,
the outlets for valuable districts, with
which they are connected by short lines of
railroad. Millersburg is the shipping point
for Lykens Valley coal, one of the finest
grades put on the market. Herndon. which
is growing fast. has. since the building of
the Northern Central, wrested the coal
trade from Tort Trevorton, opposite. When
the latter spot was laid out, in 1853, the
canal on the west side of the river afforded
the only outlet for the coal of Trevorton,
which is in the hills, a dozen miles back
of Herndon. Accordingly, ;l railroad was
built to the river, and across to the canal

128

by a long bridge. The piers of that bridge
still stand desolate in the river, a monu-
ment to the downfall of the canal, for at
Herndon the loaded coal ears are simply
shifted from one track to another to be
sent to any part of this country.

Selin's Grove, which is on the west bank
six miles below Sunbury— with which it is
connected by a Pennsylvania Railroad
branch, continuing on to the Juniata at
Lewiston — was the scene of one of the
earlipst wholesale massacres in the Susque-
hanna's history. On October 15, 1735. In-
dians descended upon this infant settle-
ment on Penn's creek, killed 13 persons
and carried away 12 young women and
children. One wounded settler brought the
news to Harrisburg, and John Harris, Jr.,
led a party in pursuit. This party was am-
bushed near the scene of the first slaughter
and were forced to flee across the Susque-
hanna. Seven were killed, five others
drowned and five Indians slain. It is said
of Harris that his life was saved by a cor-
pulent doctor jumping upon the back of
his horse as he was making him wade the
river. A bullet from an Indian rifle went
through the doctor's heart.

The scene of the fight was shortly after
marked by a wedge driven into a sapling,
and though the fight was nearly a century
and a half ago, the split was pointed out
until very recently, the sapling having
spread to a girth of 12 feet.

One of the most realistic narratives ever
told by captives is contained in the story
published by Barbara Leininger and Marie
LeRoy, two of those taken in the massacre
at Penn's creek. They were driven into
the deep forests of Western Pennsylvania,
exposed to all kinds of weather, forced to
eat acorns and roots, to cut down trees,
to build huts, tan leather and do all kinds
of drudgery. They witnessed the most in-
human treatment of other prisoners, who
were roasted alive, had melted lead poured
down their throats and their bodies mu-
tilated by cutting off one member after an-
other. At the expiration of three years the
girls escaped and, with almost incredible
fatigue and hardships, reached friends
again.

129

Selin's Grove owes its name to Anthony
Selin, a Swiss, who was a captain in
Washington's army. A brother-in-law of
Selin was Governor Simon Snyder, one of
the most sturdy characters ever the execu-
tive of a Commonwealth. Born in Lan-
caster in 1759, of poor parents, he was a
tanner's apprentice in York, then a store-
keeper and scrivener at Selin's Grove,
where he prospered, went into politics and
rose to be Governor in 1808. He was twice
re-elected and filled a big niche in popular
estimation. He strongly advocated free
public schools and a canal from the Chesa-
peake to the Great Lakes by way of the
Susquehanna.

In 1885 the State of Pennsylvania erected
a monument over the grave where Gov-
ernor Snyder was buried in 1819, in the*
old Lutheran graveyard in Selin's Grove.
Simon Cameron and Governors Pattison,
Curtin and Hartranft made addresses at
the unveiling, which was a big event for
the people of Central Pennsylvania, who
honor Simon Snyder's memory in many
ways. The shaft is of Quincy granite, sur-
mounted by a bronze bust and bearing
medallions representing him as tanner.
states man and farmer.

The large substantial-looking home
which Governor Snyder built for himself
in Selin's Grove in the last year of his in-
cumbency is still standing, though dam-
aged by a fire which swept the town in
1874.

Selin's Grove is known as the seat of the
Missionary Institute of the Evangelical
Lutheran Church, which prepares young
men for ministerial work in foreign lands.
It was founded by Maryland Synod in 1856
and was first intended for Baltimore, but
the people of Selin's Grove secured it by
generous donations of money and land.
Rev. Dr. Benjamin Kurtz, an eminent
Lutheran divine, was its first president.

In the river in front of Selin's Grove is
an island called the Island of Que. It
was once owned by Conrad Weiser, the
Indian interpreter, who is said to have
gotten it from its Indian possessor by
"swapping dreams." The Indian first

130

dreamed that Weiser gave him— but what's
the use of repeating the tradition I told
you about "Johnson's Dreamland," near
Otego? Turn back and read it over and
you will have the legend of the Island of
Que.

Middle Creek, a few miles below Selin's
Grove, was, in January, 1768, the scene of
a wanton slaughter of Indians. Frederick
Stump, a settler there, killed four red men
and two squaws, cut a hole in the river ice
and dropped the bodies in. Then on the
following day he killed an Indian woman,
two girls and a child farther up Middle
creek and burned their bodies. Stump
was arrested and put in jail at Carlisle,
but was rescued by a mob of sympathizers,
who believed the colonial policy of pro-
tecting the Indians a gross mistake. This
was five years after the "Paxton boys' "
affair in Lancaster county.

McKee's Half Falls, shortly below
Georgetown, but on the west side of the
river, derives its name from being the
farther half of rapids which are separated
by an island. The half nearest the east
bank has never borne a name. There art-
two ledges of rocks. Over the first the
river descends three and one-half feet,
over the second three feet. Thomas Mc-
Kee was an Indian trader, who settled on
the west side as early as 1750. He was a
pluckier fellow than one Peter Shaffer,
who stayed but a short time near the
Half Falls, because he couldn't stand the
noise of the rapids, nor of his neighbor's
cowbells, nor the smell of the shad caught
in the river.

On the west side, opposite Halifax, which
is 21 miles above Harrisburg, there is a
spot called "Girty's Notch," where Simon
Girty. the notorious frontier renegade, is
said to have spent several days in a hill
cave next to the river, watching a gather-
ing of Revolutionary soldiers at Halifax,
where was located one of a chain of Sus-
quehanna defense forts. Another was Fort
Hunter, near where Rockville now stands,
six miles above Harrisburg. There are no
remains of the two forts.

Girty was born at Fort Hunter, and as a
boy lived there and in Sherman's Valley,

131

in the mountains west of the Susquehanna.
His father was a worthless drunken char-
acter. A biographer of Simon Girty has
traced him and his brothers with much
care, and has shattered the "Girty's
Notch" tradition by proving that Girty
did not return to the Susquehanna upon
any such marauding expedition.

At the river's junction 20 miles above
Harrisburg with the Juniata, the "Blue
Juniata," a stream of romantic flavor and
fine scenery, the canal shifts across from
the west to the east bank of the Susque-
hanna by means of a dam and a wooden
towing bridge. The canal branch which
goes up the Juniata is carried across that
stream by an aqueduct which in its day
was considered an engineering achieve-
ment, and which aroused the lively curi-
osity of Charles Dickens.

Duncan's Island, which lies at the con-
fluence of the two rivers, is one of the
largest islands of the Susquehanna. It is
two miles long and its fertile soil has
given it a considerable population, while
its location amid river and mountain scen-
ery makes it attractive to visitors. Its
situation was doubtless the reason why it
was a favorite spot for Indians. The
Nanticokes dwelt there for some time, and
the Shawnees and Susquehannocks before
them, and there are stories of* a battle in
which the Delawares were badly defeated
by Cayugas. A thousand Delawares are
said to have been slain. The Cayugas had
muskets and the Delawares fought with
bows and arrows. There was once a
burial mound here, and when the canal
was being dug hundreds of skeletons were
found. Indian weapons and utensils are
often dug up to this day.

In 1744 Rev. David Brainerd, a mission-
ary, visited the Indians then living on
Duncan's Island, and has left a sad picture
of their destitution, shiftlessness and de-
bauchery. The tribe were having a "deer
sacrifice." which Mr. Brainerd describes
in his journal as a wild, drunken orgy.

William Baskins, who settled on Dun-
can's Island a few years later, was in
1755 scalped, and his wife, a son and a
daughter taken prisoner. The wife es-

132

caped, but the son was carried to New
York and afterward became noted along
the border as Timothy Murphy, "scout and
Indian terror." I have already mentioned
him on the Upper Susquehanna. He was
an unerring shot and is said to have killed
Gen. Fraser in the battle of Bemis Heights.

The same Baskins family are among the
ancestors of Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-
President of the Confederacy. James Bas-
kins ran a ferry to the east side of the
Susquehanna from what is now Duncan-
non, a little iron town at the mouth of the
Juniata. His daughter fell in love with
Alexander Stephens, a British soldier who
served under General Braddock. Her
father was opposed to her marrying the
redcoat and disinherited her when she did
so. Stephens and his wife moved to Geor-
gia. Some of their descendants returned
to the neighborhood of the Juniata.

Another prominent character of the vi-
cinity was Gen. Frederick Watts, one of
Pennsylvania's brigadiers in the Revolu-
tion, and the ancestor of several men who
gained distinction in this State.

In common with the dwellers farther up
the river, the people of this portion of the
Susquehanna share in the benefits as well
as the perils of the spring floods, which
swell the waters sometimes to an extra
elevation of 20 feet or more. It is at these
seasons that the logs and rafts which the
intervals accumulated used to be floated
off to market, but the lifting of the waters
no longer presents such stirring sights,
though the dangers still recur. In Colonial
days there was a belief that a disastrous
flood occurred on the Susquehanna each
14 years, but this has been amply dis-
proven by time. In 1874 a terrible flood
brought disaster to many a settlement al-
ready bent under the burden of war. In
1786 occurred the "pumpkin flood," be-
cause millions of them were brought down
from the flooded farmlands of thrifty New
Yorkers. The Susquehanna's chronicle of
losses by floods is a long one.

133

XVI.

IN BUSY HARRISBURG.

Harrisbukg, Pa., Sept. 5.— This city is
one of those busy places whose importance
one can quickly see by the miles upon miles
of railroad tracks adjacent to the particu-
lar track upon which one's train enters the
city.

The trains clatter past hundreds and hun-
dreds of freight cars bearing the names of
railroads all over the country. Sidings run
into factories and foundries every block or
so. Engines of the Pennsylvania road and
its branch, the Northern Central, of the
Reading road and of the Cumberland Val-
ley road puff and blow past one, and al-
together the sight is interesting because of
the idea it gives of the city's prosperity.

This idea is uot removed by getting away
from the railroad and into the heart of the
city. The manufactories are numerous, the
stores fine looking, the hotels abundant,
the financial institutions housed in befit-
ting buildings and the streets bustling with
people. For a year past the presence of
the soldiers at Camp Meade, below r.he
city, has added to the liveliness. Hundreds
of young fellows in brown canvas uniforms
were on the principal thoroughfares during
our stay.

All of which betokens the fact that Penn-
sylvania's capital city is not a place which
sleeps during the intervals of legislative
meetings, but outranks all other cities of
its class in the State in the business done,
and is even pushing close to Pittsburg and
Philadelphia. In this it is undoubtedly
greatly aided by its nearness to the coal re-
gions and by the facilities for shipment of-
fered by its railroads.

134

We found many places of interest in a
stroll through the city, some because of
their historical associations, some because
of their present attractiveness. To begiu
with, our hostelry, the Commonwealth, is
on the site of the hotel at which President
Washington was made much of on his re-
turn from the whisky insurrection in West-
ern Pennsylvania in 1794. At. the same
hotel Abraham Lincoln was a guest in Feb-
ruary, 1861, when told that there was a re-
ported plot in Baltimore to kill him on his
way through to Washington, information
which led to his famous "midnight ride"
through the Monumental City. The present
hotel was erected about nine years ago,
and is the headquarters for many of Penn-
sylvania's political leaders.

From our hotel we strolled one block east
on Market street past the County Court
building, whose spire has been painted so
white as to be almost blinding in the noon
sun; past some of those banking institu-
tions of which I have been speaking, then
one block north to the State Capitol, ad-
miring as we reached there the large Fed-
eral building of gray stone on the corner
opposite.

Frankly my hrst impression of Capitol
Park was this: "What a pity such a beau-
tiful spot should be marred by having a
big ugly brick barn in the centre!" For the
new eapitol structure in its present form
is, without mincing matters, a disgrace to
the people of a big State. And it will re-
main a disgrace until Pennsylvania's legis-
lators shuffle off some of their niggardli-
ness and their political posing.

To understand things, let me remind you
that in February, 1898, fire destroyed the
old State Capitol, which had stood since
1819 on the eminence given for it by the
city's founder in the centre of this Capitol
Park. It was, in its way, a fairly adequate
structure, but to replace it some of the
more progressive of Penusylvanians fa-
vored an edifice in which the best of pres-
ent-day American architecture should be
exemplified. The architect selected was
Henry Ives Cobb, whose plans for the
Fisheries Building at the Chicago World's

135

Fair had been much admired. Mr Cobb
designed a eapitol building which will if
eyer completed, form, as it should, the chief
beauty of Harrisburg— a large shell of brick
with an outside of marble and a fine dome'
But the Legislature of 1898 appropriated
only $550,000 and the Legislature of L899
declined to add anything, and the result is
that only a big. ugly red-brick barn con-
fronted us after we had walked through
the attractive grounds. No marble relieves
the plainness and ugliness, and a cheap
temporary roof overs the centre part,
where the dome was to have been. The
structure is so large that it is conspicuous
for some miles around Harrisburg and the
mischief is thus made worse.

The excuse which was given for limiting
the cost to such a small figure was that
larger sums would lead to extravagance
and State scandals like that which attend-
ed the building of the New York Capitol at
Albany, where one part was falling to
pieces before another was completed It is
also asserted by the advocates of economy
that it was improper to have gone ahead
with plans for such an ambitious building
when it was known that the appropriation
would not warrant it.

The Legislature met in its State •'barn"
when last in session, but the paintings, the
collection of Civil War flags and the other
historical relics which used to interest vis-
itors to the old Capitol building are stored
in the State Library building, which is a
structure of much beauty and~tastefulness,
built five years ago to house a library which
is indeed a fine one. and erected at a cost,
exceeding that prescribed for the Capitol
Some of the other State departments are
placed m two small edifices of twin design,
which stand on each side of the new Capi-
tol, just as they did beside the old one.

1 have spoken of the attractiveness of
Capitol park, and it is deserved. Many
beautiful trees of rare kinds, flower bed's
and hothouses, well-kept lawns and pleas-
ing paths make it a favorite resting place.
Several churches and homes of fine design
are on the streets surrounding the park,
which occupies the space of several ordi-
nary city blocks.

136

Harrisburg is, in good measure, a "monu-
mental city." The first shaft which we no-
ticed was in Capitol Park, south of the
State buildings. It is a tall Corinthian col-
umn of Maryland marble, surmounted by a
statueof "Victory" of fine Italian marble. It
was erected in 1868 to the memory of Penn-
sylvania's soldiers in the Mexican War.and
the names of the battles of that war are
contained on the granite base, while in
front lie cannon captured at the battle of
Cerro Gordo and several highly ornament-
ed brass guns presented to the Continental
Congress by Lafayette.

Immediately in front of the Capitol and
facing down State street, a fine broad ave-
nue which leads west to the river, is a
handsome equestrian statue of General
Hartranft, which was unveiled last Deco-
ration Day. It stands on a fine base of pol-
ished granite and is altogether a creditable
tribute to a man who commanded Pennsyl-
vania troops in the Civil War and who was
afterward a Governor of the State.

Our walk down State street to the river,
two blocks away, led past three other monu-
ments, of which the most prominent was
an obelisk 110 feet high, patterned after
the pair of obelisks which were at the gates
of the Egyptian city of Memphis, and to
my way of thinking as graceful as the
Bunker Hill monument of the same type.
Its inscription tells the reason for its erec-
tion, as follows:

To the soldiers of Dauphin county who gave their
lives for the life of the Union in the war for the
suppression of the Rebellion, 1861-65. Erected by
their lellow-citizens, 1869.

The other two monuments are both in
the yard of St. Patrick's Catholic Pro-
Cathedral, a low edifice of some age, though
pretty within. One of the monuments is
a Mexican cross of white marble to the
memory of Columbus, one of the many
erected to the famous Genoese during the
four hundredth anniversary of his discov-
ery of America. The other is a square
monument of polished black marble, sur-
mounted by a religious statue and marking
the grave of Right Rev. J. F. Shanahan,
the first Bishop of Harrisburg.

137

On the same block with St. Patrick's Pro-
Cathedral is the handsome edifice of Grace

Methodist Episcopal Church, erected about
20 years ago at a cost of more than $145,-
000. It was the place where the State
Legislature met after the Capitol fire.

Another Harrisburg church possessing
historic interest is that of the Zion Luth-
eran Congregation, on Fourth street, near
Market, with a tall spire. At a national
political convention there in 1840 William
Henry Harrison was nominated for the
Presidency.

One block away on Fourth street is the
Bethel Church of God. the first pastor of
which was Rev. John Winebrenner, the
founder of the denomination which is of-
ten called by his name. Mr. Winebrenner,
who was a native of Maryland, was origi-
nally a German Reformed pastor, and came
to Harrisburg as such in 1S20. But the
doctrines which he advocated in a series of
revivals caused such comment among the
German Reformed brethren that he with-
drew, and in 1830, at a conference of his
followers in Harrisburg, founded the new
church.

The river front of Harrisburg is noted for
its picturesqueness and its tine residences.
The bank of the river was long ago parked
and the walk through it now leads be-
neath rows of tall, tine shade trees. Next
to these rows of trees is Front street, and
on the opposite side of Front street for live
or six blocks are the homes of Harrisburg' s
most prosperous residents. Right on the
corner of State street, as we came from the
Capitol, was the tasteful residence of for-
mer United States Senator Don Cameron,
whose tine farm and summer place was af-
terward pointed out to us, a short distance
below the city. A block and a half south of
State street, on Front street, is i he Gov-
ernor's residence, a large three-story brick
(1 welling of plain design presented to the
State by citizens of Harrisburg in 1864.

A few of the dwellings along Front street
are both handsome and new, but the ma-
jority appealed to us because they are of
older pattern, substantial, solid and often
quaint.

138

The series of bridges across the west bank
added much to the pleasure of the river
walk. The Susquehanna is here a mile
broad, with one large and several small
islands dividing its course in front of the
city. Four bridges now span it, while the
stone piers for a fifth are standing, though
they may never be used. They were put
up by the Vauderbilts when they had the
scheme of a great railroad to the West and
South through Pennsylvania.

The quaint old covered bridge is one of a
type which has mostly passed away, but
which still has some examples along the
Susquehanna and its tributaries. This one
here is the largest and the most famous.
They were all built after the design of
Theodore Burr, a New England civil en-
gineer, who received much approval in this
State. This one was begun in 1812 and
finished in 1816. The part from Harris-
burg to the island in midstream was car-
ried away by a flood in 1816 and again by
fire in 1866, but the other half is part of
the original. Its wood has become so dark
and its proportions so uneven in its 80
years of existence that it now looks like a
huge snake laid on stone piers.

Charles Dickens on the way from Balti-
more to the West in 1842 drove through the
old bridge, and this is what he wrote about
it in his ' 'American Notes:"

We crossed the river by a wooden bridge, roofed
aad covered in on all sides, and nearly a mile in
length. It was profoundly dark, perplexed with great
beams crossing and recrossing it at every possible
angle, and through the broad chinks and crevices in
the floor the rapid river gleamed far down below
like a legion of eyes. We had no lamps, and as the
horses stumbled and floundered through this place
toward the distant speck of light it seemed inter-
minable. I really could not persuade myself as we
rumbled heavily on, filling the bridge with the hol-
low noises— and held clown my head to save it from
the rafters above— but that I was in a painful
dream.

Our walk along the river terminated at
the most interesting historical spot in Har-
risburg, the grave of John Harris, pioneer
of the neighborhood and father of the John
Harris who started a ferry and founded the
town, and who secured its adoption as the

139

State capital in 1812. The elder Harris
was one of the first settlers of the Lower
Susquehanna, and at this point from 1719
until his death, in 1749. he carried on a big
trade with the Indians.

The spot where he lies buried was select-
ed by him because of a tragic incident of
his life which has been oft repeated and
which forms the subject of a historical
painting owned by the State. When he
came here he made friends with the people
of an Indian village near by called Pax-
tang or Paxton. One day some drunken
Indians from a distance seized the sturdy
old trader and had begun preparations to
burn him alive beneath an old mulberry
tree near his home, when he was rescued
by a few friendly Indian neighbors, who
had been told of his seizure by a faithful
colored slave named Hercules.

Today the grave, which is marked by a
marble tombstone, is inclosed in an iron
railing and stands in the centre of this
river promenade. The old mulberry tree
long ago withered, but the stump remained
until carried away about 10 years ago by
a severe storm. A young mulberry tree has
been planted in its place by a descendant
of old Harris.

Harris, it is said, told his family on his
deathbed that if they did not bury him
where he wished he would "get up and
come back."

Back of the Harris grave, on Front street,
is the historical mansion of his son, John
Harris, Jr., built in 1766 of limestone, mas-
sive and substantial. It remained in the
possession of the Harris family until 1840,
and after having been a school for some
years was bought in 1863 by one of Penn-
sylvania's most noted men, Simon Cam-
eron. Senator Cameron added to the old
mansion in the rear and beautified its sur-
roundings, and there he dwelt until his
death, in 1889.

John Harris, Jr., is not buried within the
limits of Harrisburg, but in the graveyard
of Old Paxton Church, which is three miles
east of the city, an easy and interesting
trip. The Presbyterian pioneers had a
house of worship here as early as 1725, and
the present plain but substantial limestone

140

church was put up about 1740. Here a
pious Presbyterian pastor, John Elder,
preached with his rifle by his side in the
French and Indian war, when massacres
were daily anticipated and when the man
of God was also colonel of the provincial
forces of the neighborhood. On the edge
of a handsome grove of old oaks are the
graves of half a dozen generations, among
them not only John Harris, but his son-in-
law. Gen. William Maclay, one of Pennsyl-
vania's first Senators, and of Generals
Simpson and Crouch, Revolutionary heroes
of local note.

Some men of Dauphin who are not buried
here came to mind as we searched among
the old tombstones— Lindley Murray, the
founder of English grammar, whose father,
a Quaker, had a gristmill a few miles
southeast of Paxton Church, on Swatara
creek; Rev. William Graham, who founded
Washington and Lee University at Lexing-
ton, Va.. and Alexander McNair, whose
memory is revered in St. Louis as the first
Governor of the State of Missouri, and who
said himself that he became a prominent
man in the West because a younger brother
gave him a good trouncing when his wid-
owed mother left them to decide by a set-
to which one was to have the old farm in
this county.

From the hills east of Harrisburg on our
way to Paxton it was possible to get a view
of the picturesque surroundings of Harris-
burg. such as used to be obtained from the
dome of the old Capitol. To the northwest
are the Kittatinny Mountains, a narrow
gap in their blue ridge showing where the
Susquehanna breaks through to flow past
Harrisburg and on down to Maryland. The
river valley is broad and opening out of it
here are two of the fairest valleys in
America— Lebanon, to the northeast, to-
ward Reading, and Cumberland, to the
southwest, along the Kittatinnies,to Mary-
land and into Virginia. The city, with its
spires, its factory chimneys aud its smoke-
stacks, pleased us, too, until our eyes fell
upon that great hulk, the unfinished Cap-
itol. From there we had to turn away.

141

XVII.

SOME MODEL FARMS.

Columbia, Lancaster County, Pa.,
Sept. (!.— Nine miles below Harrisburg, on
the east bank of the Susquehanna, the
Pennsylvania Railroad passes near a series
of fertile fields, which within the past year
or so have become widely known as the
site of Camp Meade.

They are on a level bluff some distance
back from the river and north of the town
of Middletown. Last summer an entire
army corps was encamped there and this
years four of the new regiments intended
for Philippine service have been organ-
ized and drilled there.

But before Camp Meade was dreamed
of, before the Spanish war developed,
these fields had as much interest for in-
telligent farmers all over the country as
they now possess to those who read about
the doings of the soldiers. For they form
part of the model farms of the late James
Young, long the pride of Pennsylvanians
and the envy of every farming community.
Many notable visitors from abroad inter-
ested in agriculture have gone away from
Middletown enchanted. One, the Duke
of Sutherland, wrote of his visit in terms
calculated to cause the farmers of Eng-
land to imitate some of Colonel Young's
scientific methods.

Even to the ordinary visitor these farms
cannot help but be a delight to the eye.
Everywhere system, neatness and order
prevail. The fences are trim and the
many farm buildings are all as clean as
pins and evidently built and kept in fine
fashion. This is especially true of the
barns, which are not the Swisser or Penn-
sylvania German type, nor yet the pro-

14-2

verbial red barn, but aro largo, airy, finely
built and markedly neat looking because
of tbe frequent application of ligbt paint.

Fancy passing a field of tall corn a mile
long, or 75 acres of growing grain, or a
hundred acres of grass and clover. Yet
this is what we did today. The series of
farms stretch for two and a half miles
along the railroad tracks, most of them
above Middletown, but two below that
town. They were not bought all at once
by Col. Young, but were gradually acquired
during the last half century, and each of
the 11 farms had its appropriate name
and its separate attention. In all there
were 1,500 acres. Forty men were regularly
employed and double that number in har-
vest time. The pastures contain cattle of.
high dfgree and in the barnyards are pigs
and chickens of blue-ribbon kinds. When
the Young exhibits were lined up at county
fairs the other farmers generally felt dis-
couraged.

The founder of these farms, Col. James
Young, was born in Middletown in 1820
and was the son of a hotelkeeper. With
an inborn fondness for farming, he was
enabled to gratify his tastes in this mag-
nificent way when wealth came to him
through dealing in lumber and coal,
through railroad building and through in-
vestments in a variety of corporations.
Pennsylvania honored his' knowledge of
farming by keeping him for a long time on
her State Board of Agriculture. Colonel
Young died in 1895, and the farms were
partitioned among his five children. Nearly
all have lately been disposed of.

While I have spoken so enthusiastically
about the Young farms, it must not be
imagined that they are the only places
worth noticing in the ride between Har-
rishurg and Columbia, a distance of 27
miles. Several towns are on the east
bank— Steelton, Highspire, Middletown,
Bainbridge and Marietta— all containing
manufactories of various sorts and all
owing their business largely to their situ-
ation along the Pennsylvania Railroad and
the canal. On the west bank the North-
ern Central Railroad runs for 14 miles be-
fore it leaves the river at Yrork Haven

143

and strikes off through York to Baltimore.
It, too, has built up several villages there-
New Cumberland, Goldsborough and York
Haven — but they are not to be compared
to the bustling towns of the east bank.

The river through this region is broad
and dotted with islands, upon which crops
are growing. High hills stand in irregu-
lar fashion on the west bank, sometimes
near the river, sometimes set back. On
the east bank there are scarcely any hills
until a mile or so above Columbia, when
Chiques rock is reached. The country on
this side is a rolling one, not especially
picturesque, but teeming with life.

Iu the daytime the chimneys of Steel-
ton excite wonderment by their multi-
# plicity, but in the night they charm by
their brilliancy. There are no less than
half a hundred of these tall black fellows,
and lurid tongues of flame often leap from
their tops, affording a fine pyrotechnic dis-
play. The railroad train passed for a mile
or more through the great steel plant,
which today gives employment to about
7,000 men. The town has so developed
that it almost seems a part of Harrisburg,
though in reality three miles below the
city. Twelve thousand people dwell here
now, but in 1896, when the works of the
Pennsylvania Steel Company were located
here, there were only six houses. The
company has always shown a warm inter-
est in the progress of its workmen, and
among other things has given a fine school-
house to the town. The works are at pres-
ent running from Monday morning to Sat-
urday night, day and night, for there are
orders far ahead for Bessemer steel rails,
steel ingots and structural steel patterns.

Half way between Steelton and Middle-
town is Highspire, about whose odd name
nobody seems to know anything. There
is no steeple here of any size. On a bluff
is "Tinian." an interesting colonial home,
probably the oldest in this vicinity. It
was erected about 1760 by Col. James
Burd. who was an Indian fighter of great
bravery and who entertained here many
noted men. The old iron knocker is still
on the front door, and the interior of the
stone edifice has never been remodeled.

144

Middletown is 30 years older than Har-
risburg, which long ago outstripped it.
Its name, we are told, came from the cir-
cumstance that it was half way between
Lancaster and Carlisle. More than a cen-
tury ago when farm produce began to be
rafted down the Susquehanna, Middletown
was the place at which it was transferred
to wagons for an overland trip to Philadel-
phia. The building of the canal to Reading
by using Swatara creek, which here flows
into the Susquehanna, still further helped
the place, but, of course, the canal is dead
now. Still Middletown is a pleasant town
of more than 5,000 inhabitants, with fur-
naces, a foundry and half a dozen mills
working up lumber in various ways. Its
population has more than doubled in 30
years; so that it is by no means to be
considered as a dying town.

One of the schools of Middletown is the
Emaus Institute, where orphans of Lu-
theran parentage are educated. It was
founded through the, liberality of a towns-
man, Gottlieb Frey, who was originally a
poor boy, but amassed wealth before his
death in 1806. It is said of Frey, who was a
German, that his name was not originally
Frey, but that on one occasion, when ped-
dling goods up the river near Fort Hunter,
he was caught by some mischievous sol-
diers, who declared that they intended to
take his pack, as he seemed to be a run-
away servant; to which the captured lad,
who could then speak little English, pro-
tested in German, "I am free," or "Ich bin
frei," and was ever afterward known along
the Susquehanna as Peddler Frey.

St. Peter's Lutheran Church, in Middle-
town, is more than a century old. Col.
Young is among those buried there.

Hill Island, which is one of a group in
a bend of the river below Middletown,
was the scene of a curious gathering in
1843. Rev. William Miller, founder of
the Second Adventists, preached through
this section that the world was to come
to an end on a certain day of that year and
many curious followers gathered on a sum-
mit on Hill Island to welcome the event.
They prayed and waited all night, we are
told, but when another day dawned and

145

the world went on they left the island in
disgust.

Half a century ago an eccentric charac-
ter lived on the summit of the Conewago
Hills, on the west side of the river above
Hill Island. He claimed to be versed in
medicine, law and surveying, and on his
mountain home, where he lived alone, he
had "shingles" proclaiming that he prac-
ticed these three professions. It is not to be
presumed that persons who needed a doctor
or lawyer toiled to the top of the steep hill
to consult this one. The hermit wore. Avin-
ter and summer, in all sorts of weather, a
high-crowned white silk hat and a light
colored suit, and carried over his head a
white umbrella. Long before his death he
made his own coffin and carved a lime-
stone pyramid for his grave.

The Conewago Rapids, which are in the
river at the mouth of Conewago creek, for
a long time formed the principal obstacle
to the navigation of the river by boats and
rafts until the canal I have mentioned was
opened around its west end in 1707.

The village of York Haven, which was
soon started at the lower end of the canal,
was for a generation one of the most im-
portant business centres in lower Pennsyl-
vania. Baltimore capitalists developed here
a series of big flour mills, a nail factory,
cooper shops, workmen's homos and a sum-
mer resort hotel, which was distinguished
in 1824 by having as a guest General La-
fayette, who was on his way from Balti-
more ro Harrisburg.

The wildest dreams were indulged in
about York Haven, and it was frequently
asserted that it was destined to be one of
the great cities of the country. The
"boom'' fever seized the owners and in
1814 a town was regularly laid out and lots
advertised for sale. Most of the streets
bore the names of the Baltimore investors,
including such well-known citizens as
Thomas Hillen, Jacob Stansbury. William
Wilson, Joseph Townsend, John Weather-
burn, William Cole and William Gwynn.
But alas! the largest mill was burned in
182G, and then the construction of the canal
across the river and the later invasion of
railroads into the valley contrived to knock

146

the bottom out of York Haven. The prop-
erty ultimately passed into the hands of
the Glenns, of Baltimore, who sold it in
1885 to tne Conewingo Paper Company,
who have a paper mill in full operation.

The experiences of York Haven as a
"boom town" were re-echoed every mile
along the Susquehanna from Harrisburg to
Columbia. It must not be supposed that
an era of "paper cities" is new with the
present generation, for it is positively mel-
ancholy to read of the disastrous failures
in this region. Every one who owned land
on the river front indulged in dreams of
the prosperity that was to come from the
development of river navigation, and their
fertile acres were laid off into town lots
and sold at absurd prices. Speculation in
them followed and finally the crash came—
a disaster which long impeded the river
towns and actually killed many of them.

In 1834 Gen. Lewis Cass, who was then
Secretary of War, came near being
drowned in the river below Conewago
Rapids. He was on his way to visit Simon
Cameron and his ferryman lost his way,
the night being foggy and stormy. They
drifted about for hours in extreme peril,
but were finally rescued.

Some of the waterfall at York Haven is
to be utilized by a company to furnish ex-
tensive electric power to the teity of York.
Similar schemes for harnessing the Sus-
quehanna are being talked of at several
other places, including Columbia and
Peach Bottom. From the last-named place
it is expected to transmit the power to
Baltimore and Philadelphia.

Marietta, which is four miles above Co-
lumbia and 23 below Harrisburg, is a town
which has considerable prosperity because
of its iron furnaces and foundries. There
is a population of 2,500, mostly employed
in the ironworks, which are stretched
along the railroad track. North of the
town is a curious country place, the vac-
cine farm of Dr. Alexander, where hun-
dreds of cattle are used in preparing virus,
which is shipped to all parts of this land.

Opposite Marietta there are a number of
pleasure resorts, the most romantic of
which is Wildcat Glen, through which a

147

little stream pitches and tosses in pretty
cascades on its way to the river. On top
of the hill near there is a clubhouse for
fishermen and gunners from York.

Two miles northeast of Marietta, on
high, level ground, is the old village of
Maytown, where, in a small farm dwell-
ing, Simon Cameron was born, in 1799. His
father was then a tailor and hotelkeeper,
but had formerly been a tenant farmer
upon the glebe lands of Donegal Meeting
House, which is about two miles from
Maytown. Donegal Church is one of the
historic homes of Scotch-Irish Presbyteri-
ans in this region. The Presbytery was
formed in 1720 and the present stone
church was erected about 1740. though it
has since been remodeled. A monument is
shortly to be placed in the churchyard by
one of the patriotic societies of wompu.

As our train stopped at Chickies Station
for a moment, preparatory to swinging
around the base of Chiques rock and so
into Columbia, I saw the most stately old
mansion I have noticed along the Susque-
hanna, with a great portico and tall col-
umns. It was the home of Prof. Samuel
Stehman Haldeman, one of America's dis-
tinguished naturalists — by turns a student
of shells, of rocks, of languages, the author
of 200 scientific memoirs and long connect-
ed with the University of Pennsylvania.
first as professor of natural sciences and
then as professor of comparative philol-
ogy. The site, which is unique for its bold,
romantic profile and delightful prospect.
was given to him by his father, and in
1S35 this splendid old home was built from
the Professor's own plans. It was sur-
rounded by foreign trees and plants, and
was in every way such a fitting place for
a great investigator of nature's secrets
that it seems a pity that some other noted
scholar has not made it his home since Dr.
Haldeman's death, instead of allowing the
mansion to go into decay.

148

XVIII.

THE STORY OF COLUMBIA.

Columbia, Lancaster County, Pa., Sept.
7.— Whether you come from up the river
or from down the river, the big bridge
across the Susquehanna from Columbia to
Wrightsville, on the west bank, is a con-
spicuous object. It is a bridge which de- •
serves more than a passing glance because
a chapter of the Southern Confederacy
was made by it.

When Gen. Robert E. Lee made his mem-
orable invasion of Pennsylvania, with
the idea of winning triumph for the South
by cutting off Washington from the North,
and, perhaps, capturing Philadelphia and
New York, this bridge, or more correctly
its predecessor, was the farthest point
eastward or northward reached by his
forces. Then came the battle of Gettys-
burg, disastrous for the Southern cause,
and the retreat into Virginia made this
region around Columbia and Wrightsville
memorable as the "high water mark of
the Confederacy."

It was on the evening of Sunday, June
28, 1803, when Gen. John P.. Gordon, since
Governor of Georgia and a Senator from
that State, marched 2,500 Confederate
troops over the high York county ridge
behind Wrightsville. He had been sent in
advance by Gen. .Tubal Early, who re-
mained at York, and he was following up a
body of Union militia and convalescents,
which had withdrawn from York when
Early drew near. These Union troops were
now "collected in Wrightsville. but after a
feeble attempt to resist Gordon's men they
were led in retreat across the bridge to
Columbia and the long bridge was set on
fire to prevent the Southerners crossing
the Susquehanna.

149

The scene made by the burning bridge
must have been a sublime one. "The
fire,*-' says an eyewitness, "swept along
from span to span until the whole struc-
ture was one roaring mass of angry flames;
blazing timbers hissed as they dropped in
the stream and floated toward the big
dam below. The Southern soldiers lined
the right bank of the river and swarmed
over the adjacent hills, interested specta-
tors of the grand display of fire's awful
forces. Men. women and children crowded
the Columbia side almost spellbound as
the fire shaped fantastic colorings on sky,
tree and water. Then came panic. The
retreat of the troops, the firing of the
bridge and shell and shot falling into the
* river created a stampede, which continued
during the night, as the shelling of the
town was anticipated."

General Gordon and his soldiers re-
mained at Wrightsville until the morning
of the second day following, when the
word of recall came. Lee had taken his
stand at Gettysburg, and one of the great
battles of the world was readv to be
fought.

The present fine steel bridge is not the
immediate successor of the one set afire in
1863. The Pennsylvania Railroad built one
in 1868. which remained until a hurricane
on September 29, 1896. when the structure
was swept from its piers and thrown into
the river, a mass of broken and tangled
debris. A new bridge was put in position
in the succeeding spring in the record-
breaking time of 21 days. It is 100 feet
longer than a mile and has the enormous
weight of 7.100 tons. It is used by a di-
vision of the Pennsylvania Railroad run-
ning from Lancaster and Columbia to
York. Hanover and Frederick, Md. A
flooring of boards permits its use for driv-
ing and walking when it is known that
trains are not due.

There is another way in which Columbia
and Wrightsville are linked with the na-
tion's history, and it is an incident that
does not seem to be generally known. In
1789 when the capital of these United
States had not been fixed, and when there
was consequently much log-rolling among

150

the States and towns eager for the honor,
there was a strong movement in favor of
locating here at Columbia. Indeed, so
strong was the movement that on Septem-
ber 4 of that year the lower branch of
Congress passed a resolution "that the
permanent seat of the General Govern-
ment ought to be in some convenient place
on the banks of the Susquehanna river, in
the State of Pennsylvania." You must
understand that since 1733 this had been
the place for a ferry, which was an im-
portant link of communication between
North and South. Its selection was largely
urged by the Representatives from New
England, while on the other hand, its chief
opponents were Southern members, who
supported the banks of the Potomac for the
capital, and who had suspicions, it seems,
that this Susquehanna site was being urged
and backed by a powerful lobby. At any
rate the Susquehanna resolution was voted
down in the Senate, and the next year,
through the influence of Thomas Jefferson,
the Potomac was selected.

Harrisburgers claim that their city was
the Susquehanna town under considera-
tion. They also say that the Confederate
advance reached the river bank opposite
their city. But I am now giving you "The
Story of Columbia."

It is rather curious to read now the
arguments which were advanced in favor
of the Susquehanna. It was maintained
by the New Englanders that John Wright
and his son John had fixed their ferry at
"the point nearest the centre of wealth,
population and influence" and that the
centre of population was going to stay
here at Columbia for many years to come.
Fisher Ames, of Massachusetts, echoed
the general opinion of his colleagues, wc
are told, when he said it was "perfectly
romantic" to allow any consideration of
the country west of the Ohio, as it was
an "unmeasurable wilderness about whose
settlement nv one could calculate." To-
day there are more millions west of the
Ohio river than east of it, the Capitol at
Washington has several hundred thou-
sands within its shadow, while here on the
Susquehanna, Columbia and Wrightsville

151

between them cannot muster more than
15,000. Odd, indeed, are the vagaries of
history.

Columbia and Wrightsville can hardly be
called handsome towns. They have a pret-
ty location on the hillsides of the Susque-
hanna at a point where it is broad, but
Columbia, while a prosperous small city
because of its factories, mills and fur-
naces, has not developed its aesthetic side
in harmony with its material progress.
We saw some pretty churches and fine
homes during a stroll from which we have
just returned, but they are not the rule.
Wrightsville is more a village in its type,
with about one-fifth of Columbia's inhab-
itants. It has, however, several manufac-
tories.

There was a time when Columbia had a
big trade as the southern end of the State
system of canals. That day is over, al-
though the town is still an important
freight-handling point for the Pennsylva-
nia and the Philadelphia and Reading,
which has a road here from Reading.

Two diminutive ferryboats towing a flat-
boat for cattle and wagons are the latter-
day successors of the ferry which was
carried on at this point by the Wrights.
After having ridden over and back in a
lazy fashion, with about four persons for
companions en voyage, it seems hard for
me to believe this was once such an im-
portant ferry point that emigrants often
had to wait two and three days to get
themselves, their equipment and their
stock across to the west side. Yet that is
what we are told happened in the days of
the first Wright.

Wright, by The way, was a man of much
importance in Pennsylvania's early his-
tory. He resisted in sturdy fashion the
encroachments of the Maryland men under
Cresap, who wished to take possession of
the land hereabouts for Lord Baltimore;
he named Lancaster county after his na-
tive county of Lancashire, in England, and
was a presiding justice of the County
Court for many years. His son, John, lived
on the York county side of the river and
really carried on the ferry.

152

II was not until after their deaths that
Wright's Ferry on the east bank became
Columbia and Wright's Ferry on the west
bank became dignified into Wrightsville.
The town was laid out and named Colum-
bia by Samuel Wright, a grandson of the
pioneer. This occurred about the time of
the agitation for making Wright's Ferry
the National Capital, which most likely
had something to do with the selection of
the name of Columbia.

One of the interesting old mansions of
Columbia is the Wright home, a solid-look-
ing stone house. It faces on the second
street back from the river, and its rear
is above the railroad tracks. In its cen-
tury and a half of history it has seen many
exciting incidents. After Braddock's de-
feat in 1755 it was used as a fort for the
alarmed settlers of this vicinity, its stone
walls, narrow windows and double doors
of oak making it a formidable place.

Susanna Wright, daughter of Johu
Wright the elder, was one of the most re-
markable of colonial dames. She was en-
dowed with extraordinary intellect, was
familiar with higher mathematics, was an
expert in business affairs and law, gave
much attention to the study of medicine,
knew a great deal about physics and had
gifts in the direction of painting. She
corresponded with Benjamin Franklin, and
one of the ways in which she gained dis-
tinction was by turning her attention to
the culture of silk here at her home. From
eggs procured from Europe she raised a
large number of silkworms, and then sent
the raw silk product to Paris to be wover>.
Through Franklin she gave a piece of the
silk to the Queen of England, who in turn
presented her with a silver tankard yet
in the possession of the Wright family.
It is rather interesting to note that there
now exists a silk factory in the place
where Miss Wright carried on the first silk-
culture experiments in America.

Susanna Wright, though she never mar-
ried, had her heart romance just the same.
Among her father's earliest neighbors and
friends was Samuel Blunston, surveyor of
the region. He "took up" land near that
of John Wright, but when he came to

153

buiM a house he found no spot on it that
suited him. Susanna Wright supplied him
with a site by deeding to him a corner of
a plot bought by her father in her name,
and from that time the two were close
friends. Blunston was a widower, his
wife having died soon after he came into
the neighborhood. Susanna probably never
married him because she wished to devote
her time to caring for her younger brothers
and looking after her father. But she
helped Blunston in his surveying work by
her knowledge of mathematics, and she
gave him much prudent advice and coun-
sel, after the manner of a wise Colonial
Quakeress. And when he died in 1746 it
was found that he had bequeathed to "Su-
sanna Wright, spinster," a life-interest in
such property as he had. She survived
him many years, living in the home he
had built on the ground she had given him.
A part of this old house is still standing
in Columbia and has much attraction
among the many familiar with the story
of Susanna Wright's love affair.

There is still another old home in this
neighborhood worth attention. It is a brick
dwelling over in Wrightsville, near the
railroad station in that town. It was the
home of Gen. James Ewing, who married
a daughter of John Wright, Jr., and who
commanded a brigade of the Flying Camp
under General Washington. For a time it
was the enforced abiding place of Dr. John
Connolly, a notorious Tory. Connolly was
a half-brother of General Ewing, a younger
son of his mother.

The younger brother was a creature of
Lord Drumore, royal Governor of Virginia,
and represented him in sundry malodorous
schemes to oust the Pennsylvanians who
had settled along the Ohio. He chose the
British side in the Revolution and got a
colonel's commission from General Gage,
his plan being to organize a regiment of
Indians and make cruel attacks on the bor-
der settlements. But he was arrested at
Hagerstown on his way west and was only
released upon General Ewing's pledge that
the Doctor would not leave the Ewing
farm at Wrightsville. He was soon plot-
ting again, was rearrested, exchanged and

154

wont into Canada. When the war was
over he bobbed np here with a scheme to
enlist dissatisfied American officers in an
expedition to capture Louisiana and set up
a separate government, a plan very similar
to the later one of Aaron Burr.

It is narrated that on one occasion Con-
nolly angered his brother so much at the
dinner table by boasts of how the British
would soon crush the rebels that General
Ewing jumped up, seized the Doctor by
the throat and would have throttled him
had not Mrs. Ewing interfered.

In the southern end of Columbia, near
the river, is a rolling mill office, which to
those who know it recalls a romantic story
closely identified with the writings of sev-
eral English novelists. That office was once
the home of Robert Barber, high sheriff of
Lancaster county, about 1740, and in a
log jail which Barber built near his bousp
was confined for a time James Annesley,
subsequently a prominent character in
England as claimant of the Earldom of
Anglesey.

The story of James Annesley's adven-
tures and persecutions forms the ground-
work of Charles Reade's well-known novel
"The Wandering Heir," and is also in-
corporated into portions of Scott's "Guy
Mannering," Smollett's "Peregrine Pickle"
and a fourth novel, "Florence Macarthy."

Annesley was a son of Lord Altham, a
grandson of the first Earl of Anglesey.
After his father's death in 1727, his fath-
er's brother kidnapped the nephew and
had him sold as an indentured servant in
Philadelphia, through which action the
uncle afterward was enabled to become
the Earl of Anglesey. The lad's service
was bought by a Lancaster county farmer,
whose daughter fell in love with the serv-
ant, as did also a young Indian girl. These
embarrassments caused Annesley to flee,
but he was caught and kept in this jail
at Columbia until returned to his master.

He was recognized as the heir to the
Anglesey title by two Irishmen who hap-
pened to visit his master's farm, and they
became su much interested in his story
that they offered to go back with him to
help prove his rightful inheritance. There

155

was a big sensation in London on his re-
turn. His uncle contested the charges
against him by assertions that Annesley
was not really the son of his brother, but
Annesley's cause was justified by the
courts, though he never had money enough
to prosecute them to the end and gain the
title and estates. His uncle remained in
possession and there were several bloody
quarrels between them and their followers.
As a Southerner I noticed the number
of colored persons here in Columbia and
soon found that their presence was due to
the fact that this city was the terminus
of one of the most prolific "underground
railroads" in slave times. The escaping
black men were sent from one friendly
farmhouse to another across York county
until they arrived at Wrightsville, where
they were aided by William Wright, a
grandson of the Quaker pioneer. Many
of those helped to freedom in this way
never got farther than Columbia or other
near-by river towns. Some have made
money in various business pursuits. One
was a big lumber dealer here.

A resident of Columbia at the present,
time has recently come into prominence as
a poet. I refer to Lloyd Mifflin, whose
books of sonnets and other short poems,
"At the Gates of Song," "The Slopes of
Helicon" and "The Hills," have been pro-
nounced fine by the best critics of poetry.
As a conductor said, his home is "right up
the hill from the station," a painted brick
house of comfortable appearance, standing
on a corner, with ivy overhanging parts of
it in a picturesque way.

There dwells Mr. Lloyd Mifflin, artist
and poet like his father, the late J. Hous-
ton Mifflin. In his verses much of the
country roundabouts is seen to be mir-
rored, for he loves nature's moods. Some
of his sonnets have unfolded to me new.
charms of this part of the Susquehanna.

156

XIX.

THE LAND OF BIG BARNS.

Columbia, Lancaster County, Pa., Sept.
9.— Today a series of three pleasing ex-
cursions out of Columbia has added much
to our enjoyment of this portion of the
Susquehanna Valley.

First of all we had a trolley ride on the
turnpike to Lancaster city past Senator
Quay's new home; past the fertile farms
which have made this region so famous;
past "Wheatlands," long the home of
President James Buchanan; past the at-
tractive group of buildings occupied * by
Franklin and Marshall College; and into
the heart of a busy and pretty city.

Returning to Columbia we crossed the
river to Wrightsville and drove south, par-
allel with the river, to see the remains of
the fort erected by Col. Thomas Cresap,
which was the scene of many lively en-
counters during the boundary warfare of
Maryland and Pennsylvania.

Then, after getting back to Columbia
we again took a trolley car and by a cir-
cuitous climb reached the summit of
Chiques Rock, the palisade which juts out
boldly in a bend of the river two miles
above Columbia. From there we had a
splendid view, that was the more enjoyable
because we had become familiar with the
valleys over which our eyes roamed.

Senator Quay's estate is about two miles
east of Columbia on the turnpike to Lan-
caster. It had been one of the star farms
of the neighborhood for years before its
purchase by the Pennsylvania Republican
leader, but the interest in it is, of course,
redoubled by the fame of the present own-
er, and I noticed that all eyes were turned
curiously toward it as our car whizzed
along the pike in front.

157

The house is not a striking one. .architec-
turally speaking. It is of wood, painted
yellow, and is large and roomy; so large
and roomy that it suggests a summer hotel,
a suggestion that is enhanced by the red
and white striped awnings which stood out
conspicuously before each of the many
windows. Porches around the ground
floor, of course, add much to the comfort
of the Senator's family and visitors, while
east of the house is a grove of trees.

The two hundred yards between the
road and the dwelling are not taken up
by lawns, drives and shade trees, but by
a big field of healthy looking tobacco. It
almost seems as if the Senator were
anxious to let his constituents know that
he is a farmer. Back of the house and
to the right and left tall com and fields
of waving grain show that it is indeed a
fertile farm. The driveway into the
house from the road is some distance to
the west, down a shaded avenue leading
to a big barn.

Mr. Quay was born in another fertile
country like this, across the Susquehanna,
at Dillsburg, York county, and though he
has lived most of the time since at Beaver
Falls, in the northwestern part of the
State, it is said by the people of this
neighborhood that this Lancaster county
purchase is not merely for summer use,
but will be a permanent home. It is cer-
tainly convenient to the cities in which the
Senator takes most interest. Philadelphia,
Harrisburg and Washington. His son,
Major Quay, lives permanently upon the
farm.

Lancaster county is emphatically 'the
land of big barns." One does not have
to go far on the trolley trip to Lancas-
ter to learn this. The tracks follow the
turnpike and the turnpike runs along a
high ridge, from which there is a fine
view of fertile farms on both sides for a
number of miles, while occasionally tall
spires and the haze of distant smoke be-
token the presence of villages in the
midst of one of the fairest and most pros-
perous farming regions of this country.
It is a country of rolling hills and gently
sloping vales, with occasional rocky dells

158

of no great depth and low cascades, util-
ized for grist mills, factories and machine
shops; a country of tobacco, wheat, rye,
maize, potato and turnip fields, of or-
chards, meadows and patches of woodland;
a country salubrious and wealthy, dotted
with hamlets, villages, towns and con-
spicuous barns.

Some years ago the descendants of the
Germans who wisely chose this region
had their ire excited by a book called "The
Pennsylvania Dutch," in which it was as-
serted that the dwellers here paid more
attention to their crops and stock than
they did to themselves and their families;
that the barns were large out of propor-
tion just as the houses were cramped out
of proportion. I do not echo this, for the
homes all seem to me to be wearing an air
of comfort and cheerfulness, of thrift and
neatness.

And I, for one, admire the great barns—
large, airy and commodious, well painted
or stuecoed, their barnyard sides supported
on heavy stone walls, while on the other
side earthen slopes lead up to the big front
doors. We rode past dozens of them today,
some right beside the turnpike, others look-
ing more majestic by their distance from
the road.

In our drive from TVrightsville to Cre-
sap's fort this afternoon it was evident
that the same thrift and prosperity pre-
vailed on the farms of York county. The
drive was about four miles, and the road
led over a ridge south of Wrightsville and
down into a fertile valley, which ought to
bear its proper Indian name of Conojohela,
but which is too generally corrupted into
"Jockly" or "Conojockly." It is a source
of constant regret to me that these beauti-
ful Indian names, of which there are so
many along the Susquehanna, should be so
often vulgarized. You will observe that in
writing of the high rock, to which we also
paid a visit this afternoon, I have invari-
ablv spelled it "Chiques." Up here they
usually spell it "Chickies." That is what
1 calf mutilation. It was bad enough to
have the original noble name of "Chiquesa-
lunga" split in half.

159

All this region was once claimed by Mary-
land, and our ride toCresap's place brought
vividly to the fore the circumstances un-
der which it was fought for and lost. The
whole difficulty was the ambiguity of the
two charters given by the Kings of Eng-
land to Penn and Calvert. Each tried to
claim all that seemed due under the widest
interpretation of their documents, and
Cresap was the man who made a niche in
history for himself by moving up here to
Conojohela Valley and stoutly asserting the
rights of Lord Baltimore in a land that
was just becoming peopled with Pennsyl-
vanians. He came here in 1732. and know-
ing that there would likely be trouble, he
immediately built near the river a strong
blockhouse, which has always been known
as Cresap's fort.

The foundation walls of the old fort are
still standing, after a century and two-
thirds, and were the cause of our drive
here, because of their historic interest.
They form the lower port of the farmhouse
of Mr. John L. Detwiler, and it is easy to
see that they were built to withstand at-
tack.

The story of '"Cresap's War" which fol-
lowed can be read in any history of Penn-
sylvania or Maryland, though I must con-
fess that if you read the historians of the
former State you will be inclined to think
Cresap a marauder of the deepest dye, in-
stead of regarding him as a daring pioneer,
zealous in upholding the title of the land
Lord Baltimore had given him.

The bloody part of the trouble began
with the killing of Knowles Daunt, a Lan-
caster county man. who had come with
the Sheriff of that county for the purpose
of arresting Cresap in his fort. The ex-
citement grew more intense when Cresap
was given a commission as a Maryland
magistrate and captain of militia and
went about with a force of armed men,
surveying lands, dispossessing Germans
who had Pennsylvania titles, collecting
Maryland taxes and in general ruling af-
fairs on the west side of the Susquehanna,
which was asserted to be a part of Balti-
more county. Maryland. Finally, in Sep-
tember, 173(5, the Supreme Court of Penn-

160

sylvania issued a warrant for the arrest
of Cresap "for the murder of Knowles
Daunt, and divers other high crimes and
misdemeanors," and the Lancaster Sheriff
crossed the river with a posse at night to
serve it. Cresap, with six men, was shut
in his blockhouse, and he fired on the
Sheriff. Then the Sheriff set fire to the
fort, and Cresap, his wife and his men
were obliged to rush out, and were cap-
tured after some more fighting. The leader
was taken in irons to Philadelphia, but
even as a prisoner he asserted his spirit by
saying tauntingly, as he got his first

glimpse of Philadelphia: "D it, this is

one of the fairest towns of Maryland."

Cresap was soon released and afterward
became a prominent character on the west-
ern frontier of Maryland. The border
warfare continued at intervals until
stopped by an agreement between the
Penns and the Calverts.

The share which Cresap's wife took in
the troubles around this old blockhouse is
not the least interesting part of the his-
tory. She frequently mounted a horse and
rode with her husband and his armed
force, and during the attacks on his block-
house she showed that she could handle
a musket as well as any of the men. Once
she was on her way to join her hus-
band at a point near Wrightsville, and
four miles north of their fort she saw a
flatboat filled with men crossing the river.
A bugle which she carried was quickly
souuded as a warning to her husband and
his men, while Hannah Cresap rode rap-
idly back to the fort and led reinforce-
ments. This caused the Lancaster county
men to change their minds and turn the
boat back.

Some writer has said that the vicinity
of Chiques Rock reminds him of the Po-
tomac at Harper's Ferry. I partly agree
with him. The hills are precipitous here,
just as they are around there, but the
river is broader and grander to look down
upon from Chiques Rock, and then, too,
its position in a sharp bend of the river
gives it a second advantage. It is a fa-
vorite point for the people of Columbia,
wlm picnic beneath the trees back of the

161

rock and from its outer edge take in the
view, which in all includes nearly 20
miles 6f the river, in addition to a section
of Lancaster county to the northward and
the bit of York county between the river
and the hillsides. It is not possible to see
over the York headlands into that county,
neither is it possible to see Columbia or
Lancaster or that region on the east side
of the river. High hills intervene.

The Susquehanna lies several hundred
feet beneath the observation point, its
placid current turned aside by an occa-
sional bowlder or broken into gentle rap-
ids by some ledge of rocks. The silence
which it seems to inspire is broken only
by the sound of a train crossing the long
bridge yonder to Wrightsville or following
the track to Harrisburg right at the base
of the rock. One or two parties are out
in canoes paddling here and there and
recalling to ns thoughts of how one Indian
from this rock must oft have watched an-
other in a bark canoe on the waters afar
off.

One canoe was heading up stream and
we watched it until it passed the busy
town of Marietta, which lies stretched out
along the east bank for a couple of miles.
Another canoe was coming toward us from
the same vicinity and we saw this hug
the west bank and then, coming across at
the foot of our rock, follow the east bank
until lost to sight behind the hill which
prevents us from seeing Columbia.

A popular American writer said some
years ago, "One of the loveliest landscapes
on which my eyes have fallen is the scene
which, on a sunshiny day, one surveys
from the summit of the Chiques Rock. The
whole region roundabout is a miracle of
God's handiwork— not mountainous, but
hilly, as if. in Mrs. Browning's phrase, 'His
finger touched, but did not press in mak-
ing it.' "

Chiques Rock is a favorite point of ob-
servation for Mr. Lloyd Mifflin, the poet
who was born and has lived his life here.
Sonnets describing the varying beauties
of the river as seen from this high point
at all hours of the day can easily be
picked out of his books, just as it is possi-

162

ble to find in others enchanting descrip-
tions of the life on the beautiful farms of
Lancaster county. One of his poems bears
the title of "The Susquehanna From the
Cliffs," and another, entitled '"Winter's
Here, Indeed," describes the Susquehanna
in the days of snow, when "ice the darling
river blocks," when "summer's skiffs are
laid on snowy banks," when "the ferry
flat comes not," and the wild ducks fly in
abundance overhead.

But to me today one of his prettiest river
descriptions seems to be "The Evening
Comes," in which he says:

The evening comes; the boatman, with his net,
Poles his canoe and leaves it on the shore;
So low the stream he does not use the oar;

The umber rocks rise like a parapet

Up through the purple and the violet,
And the faint-heard, never-ending roar
Of moving waters lessens more and more,

While each vague object looms a silhouette.

The light is going, but low overhead
Poises the glory of the evening star;
The fisher, silent on the rocky bar,

Drops his still line in pools of fading red
And in the sky, where all the day lies dead,
The clouded moon unsheathes her scimitar.

Thomas Moran has beautifully illustrated
some of Mr. Mifflin's poems, and I should
dearly love to have his picture of twilignt
on the Susquehanna as thus described.

163

XX.

AMID CHARMING HIGHLANDS

Port Deposit, Cecil County, Md„ Sept.
12.— Our trip to the outlet of the Susque-
hanna at Havre tie Grace and Perryville
from the little city of Columbia is one
which will linger long in the memory.

Shut in as it is by high, steep ridges, this
portion of the river, the last before its wa-
ters are spread out into broad Chesapeake
bay, has been very appropriately called
the "Highlands of the Susquehanna." And
in the opinion of our party there are few
river highlands or palisades more enchant-
ing.

One rocky spur after another juts out
into the river and forms a series of bold,
natural abutments upon both sides. At
the base of these high bluffs a railroad
creeps along on the east bank and the Tide-
water canal has been cut on the west bank,
both of them often so near the river that
it seems as if train or boat would fall over
into the water or else jam its nose into
some titanic wall of granite or slate. Along
the hillsides between the jagged rocks are
wild growths, a number of creeks and
streams and frequent deep ravines. Some-
times there are homes, but the ridges are
too rugged to permit of much cultivation,
and so the hills have been left practically
undisturbed, save where rocks were blasted
to make way for canal or railroad.

Between the hills is the river, so narrow
at some places that one is tempted to try
and throw a stone across, and again spread
out so as to make room for rocky islets,
ponderous, grim-looking bowlders and occa-
sionally an island large enough to afford a
chance for trees or tall grass. At least a
dozen times some distinctly marked ledge

164

of rocks extends from bank to bank, and
over these the river pitches into rapids,
swirling, tossing and foaming, with a
strength which surprises one, bnt which
shows what dangers the lumbermen and
boatmen met when they formerly de-
scended the river. The drouth this sum-
mer has made the keen edges of the rocks
even more apparent, and so has added to
the dread which they inspire.

The great bowlders in midstream rise up
in such grotesque and unnatural shapes
that we instinctively feel that some tre-
mendous force grimly fashioned them in
the primeval ages. They and the stony
ridges which cast their shadows across the
river are never-failing sources of interest
to the geologist. They must have been
among the earliest of the world's creations
and are so hard that an ordinary hammer
can do nothing to them.

Nature's climax is in the seven miles be-
tween Safe Harbor and McCall's Ferry.
There the hills are steepest, the river wild-
est, the bowlders and rocky islets most
abundant. McCall's Ferry is the point
watched with greatest apprehension in the
spring by the people of Port Deposit. It is
21 miles above Port Deposit and 18 below
Columbia. At that point the river forms
a gorge so narrow that if the ice jams there
in its descent there is almost sure to be a
disastrous flood when it breaks again.

A journey through this region can be
made by train in two hours from Columbia
to Perr'vville. The road is a branch of the
Pennsylvania, and there are two trains a
day each way, one in the morning and the
other in the evening. In the evening the
trip is especially enchanting, for the sun-
sets are matchless as seen from the car
windows, giving a tinge of amber and gold
to the hills and river and softening the
grimness of the rocks into delightful pic-
turesqueness.

If you are as fortunate as we were and
can get a seat in the rear of the train the
charm of the trip will be heightened, for
you can look back upon the road's winding
curves and see how the track is overhung
with trees which give delightful green vis-
tas and with rocks in whose fantastic

165

shapes imagination can picture many odd
faces. A conductor who knew the region
by heart, its stories and especial points of
interest, won our warm gratitude by his
talkativeness. From him we learned much
that is told in this letter.

In front of Columbia the river is a mile
broad, while at the borough of Washing-
ton, called "Little Washington" some-
times, ii is two miles across to the west
bank. Washington was the site of an Indian
village and is three miles below Columbia.
Between the two towns is the broken dam
which once fed water to the Tidewater
canal on the opposite bank. From Wash-
ington there is a considerable view up and
down the river. Opposite to it is the river
end of the Conojohela Valley, where Cre-
sap made his home.

Beiow Washington borough the river con-
tracts again and the hills come close to the
river, to continue that way until Port De-
posit is reached. The first high ridge is
Turkey Hill, which to the student of Penn-
sylvania history is a place of interest,
because on it was a stockaded fort of
the Susquehannock Indians, where they
met with a terrible defeat about the
year 1675 in a bloody attack by Seneca
Indians from up the river and 'where a
feeble remnant, then known as Conestoga
Indians, was brutally massacred in 1763
by «i party of lawless pioneers, called
''the Paxton boys." The attack by the
Seneeas in 1675 was the culmination of
a long series of struggles between what we
may cail the up-river Indians and the down-
river Indians. The Seneeas were the bet-
ter warriors and the downfall of the Sus-
quehanuocks was only delayed by the aid
of the colony of Maryland. Once a force of
Marylanders under Col. Ninian Beall ad-
ministered a crushing blow to the Seneeas,
which caused the name of Beall to be long
borne in mind along the Susquehanna.

Of the massacre by the "Paxton boys" I
have already said something. There was
nothing to justify their slaughter of In-
dian squaws and children.

Large quantities of stone arrowheads
and a few small cannon balls have been
found in the vicinity of Conestoga, while

166

in the river out from Safe Harbor, which
is at the base of Turkey Hill, are the in-
teresting "Sculptured Rocks," frequently
studied by archaeologists, though now
much damaged by time, weather and ice
floes. These rocks contain a large number
of hieroglyphics and a few pictures of ani-
mals of the cat kind. Similar inscriptions
are found on other rocks lower down the
river, including the Bald Friars, which are
20 miles below Safe Harbor.

Safe Harbor has already been spoken of
as the north end of the finest part of the
palisades scenery. It is a cluster of houses
back of the mouth of Conestoga creek,
which drains Lancaster county, and the
name of which has been applied to those
large canvas-covered market wagons made
so familiar through Maryland and Penn-
sylvania by the descendants of G-erman
pioneers.

In this region there are a number of cot-
tages occupied in the summer by persons
from York and Lancaster. A few are
private homes, but many are the headquar-
ters of rod and gun clubs, the members of
which find fine sport.

Not far from York Furnace Station on
the east bank there has recently been dis
covered a remarkable hillside hole called
the "Wind Cave." It is evidently several
hundred feet deep, though it is said that
no one has as yet fully explored it. Its
name is derived from the fact that when
standing in the entrance a current of air is
felt so strong that it will blow a light
handkerchief away. This makes it proba-
ble that there is another outlet in the hill-
side which has not yet been found.

The farmer folk back in the hills have
a curious name for those river dwellers
who, by picking up driftwood, by fishing
and by boating, get enough to maintain
themselves. They call them "Algerines."
an echo of the times when American skip-
pers feared the pirates of Algeria.

Tucquan creek, which comes down into
the river two miles above McCall's Ferry,
goes through a romantic glen which at-
tracts many visitors and which is also
rich in botanical specimens. The creek
rises six miles back in the country, and

167

its course is through a ravine abounding
in picturesqueness. Rocks of every shape,
crowned with trees or hidden beneath
ferns, greet the eye. Sometimes the
stream is a gentle rivulet, then a minia-
ture whirlpool, and again it plunges
through a rough chasm. About one mile
above the river it passes through a deep
gorge known as the "Devil's Hole."

There are several interesting stories told
in connection with a bridge which stood
acrcss the rocky gorge at McCall's Ferry
in 1816, but which was not renewed after
an ice flood had carried it away. Thaddeus
Stevens, the noted Pennsylvania states-
man, often called "The Great Commoner,"
relates that after having studied law while
teaching at York he found that he could
be more easily admitted to the bar at
Belair, Harford county, Md., than in
York. He was asked only three ques-
tions, after which he was promised a cer-
tificate on condition that he would "set
up" champagne for his examiners, a bar-
gain that was carried out so well that
when Stevens left Belair next morning he
had only $3.50 and his certificate. He
headed for Lancaster, where he after-
ward became a leading lawyer, and in
crossing the Susquehanna at McCall's
Ferry his horse took fright at some tim-
bers of the new bridge, and he would
have drowned had it not been for the
bravery of a man working on the bridge.

Theodore Burr was the engineer who
built this bridge at McCall's. and it is
told that he was much annoyed while
working here at McCall's by a Presby-
terian minister of the neighborhood who
gave large amounts of advice as to how a
bridge should be built. Finally Burr posted
notices that he intended to preach a ser-
mon on an island in the river on the fol-
lowing Sunday. He had a large congrega-
tion, while the minister had a slim one.
"What made you start to preach?" the lat
ter asked the bridge builder on the follow-
ing day. "Oh, I don't know," was Burr's
reply. "You seem to understand bridge-
building so thoroughly that I thought I
might have to change places with you."

When we reached Peach Bottom, which
is 27 miles below Columbia and 12 above
168

Port Deposit, we were in the heart of the
great slate region. This could be seen
from piles of split slate along the railroad
tracks and more especially by a study of
Slate Point, on the opposite side of the
river, an interesting geological curiosity.
It is the eastern terminus of a valuable
vein of slate and is a perpendicular bluff,
rising more than 300 feet above the river.
This altitude gives it a fine view up and
down the river and hence Slate Point is
much visited by lovers of romantic scenery.

The existence of slate in the rocky hii'ls
on both sides of the river was known in
Colonial times and the graves of many of
the pioneer settlers were marked with
slate slabs. But the preparation of the
slate for commercial purposes, especially
for roofing, is a development of the pres-
ent century. It was largely promoted by a
Baltimore company about 1812.

Today the quarries are almost entirely in
the hands of Welsh folk. There are, per-
haps, a score of them, mostly on the west
side of the river. The process of sawing,
splitting and trimming the slate into shin-
gles is an interesting one.

When reading as a boy about Peach
Bottom I was always curious to learn
whence came the name. Yesterday I tried
to find out. but have not satisfied myself
yet. The explanation which I got was that
this region was settled by a man named
Johnson in 1725 and that he chose the
name of Peach for these fertile "bottom''
lands on the river because of the abund-
ance of the American redwood free, which
in spring and early summer made the hill-
sides seem as if covered with large peach
orchards.

In and around Peach Bottom several
noted Americans were born. The most fa-
mous was Robert Fulton, in whose honor
the township has since been named and
whose birthplace is now called Fulton
House. It is a station on a narrow-gaug^
road which runs from Peach Bottom to
the town of Oxford, and is seven miles
from the river. The house has been re-
modeled, but the old foundation and part
of the old walls are still there. The nar-
row-gauge road runs through the old farm

169

and close to the buildings. Fulton's grand-
father settled here about 1734. He was of
Scotch-Irish birth, as were most of the
pioneers in this rocky ridge region. The
father of the steamboat man lived here for
only a few years after the son's birth, in
1765. He became involved in money mat-
ters, the old place passed into other hands
and he removed to Lancaster.

In the same neighborhood was the birth-
place of Dr. David Ramsay, the first
American historian and afterward a noted
Son.th Carolinian, and of his brother. Col.
Nathaniel Ramsay, the hero of the Mary-
land Line in the battle of Monmouth.

Near Delta, which is a couple of miles
back from the west side of the river, is the
birthplace of James Ross, a noted Fed-
eralist, Senator from Pennsylvania from
1797 to 1803 and a prominent character
in the early history of Pittsburg. Peach
Bottom township was also the boyhood
home of Hugh Henry Brackenridge, by
turns army chaplain, editor, author and
jurist. He. too, was identified with Pitts-
burg at the same period as Ross, and
figured in the "Whisky Insurrection."

A mile or so below Peach Bottom is
the Maryland-Pennsylvania boundary, the
noted Mason and Dixon line. From the
journal of the English surveyors, whose
names the line bears, we learn that the
Susquehanna is 23V± miles from the north-
east corner of Maryland. A conspicuous
rock in the middle of the river is on the
line, which is also indicated by a marker
beside the railroad.

Local traditions say that Mason and
Dixon and their corps of men were re-
garded as soothsayers or necromancers by
people who lived around Peach Bottom in
the year of their visit. They were very
generally called "the star gazers," and the
curiosity and apprehension of the ignorant
were much excited by their scientific ob-
servations of the heavens. This impres-
sion was not lessened by the antics of a
pet bear carried with them.

Bald Friar, in Maryland, not far below
the State line, was a ferry in Colonial
days, and has some historical interest be-
cause it was the Susquehanna ferry se-

170

lected by Lafayette when he was march-
ing his division of the army southward for
the campaign which resulted in the sur-
render at Yorktown. The ferry is said to
have received its name because it was kept
at one time by a baldheaded man named
Fry, hence Bald Fry's ferry; which is very
unlikely, in my humble judgment.

At Conowingo, which is not far below
Bald Friar, there is a bridge across the
water, the only one for 40 miles of the
river, it leads across to a paper mill on
the west bank.

From the Maryland line southward to
Port Deposit there are frequent traces of
a canal along the line of the railroad on
the east hank. This was the old Maryland
canal, one of the first works of its kind in
this country, started in 1783, but not in
operation until 180.1. it created the town
of Port Deposit, but died out with the
building of the larger canal on the west
bank 60 years ago, and was long ago aban-
doned.

Four miles above Port Deposit the rail-
road crosses Octoraro creek by a bridge, in
excavating for which several skeletons
were found which were evidently the re-
mains of persons of large size and were
most likely Susquehannoek Indians. When
Capt. John Smith saw the Susquehannoeks
at the mouth of the river in 1608 he says
the chief "had calves three-quarters of a
yard about and the rest of his limbs so
answerable to that proportion that he
seemed the goodliest man he ever saw."
All of which description would suit a man
about 10 feet high, so that it is probable
the doughty Virginian was drawing on his
imagination for his measurements.

Just above Port Deposit we saw the rap-
ids which blocked Captain Smith's jour-
ney up the river, and which caused him
to give the name of Smith's Falls to this
splendid stream. Many of us doubtless
rejoice because Smith's Falls did not be-
come a fixture for the Susquehanna. Where
would romance or poetry have been with
such a name?

171

XXI.

AT THE RIVER'S MOUTH.

Havre de Grace. Harford County.
Mi)., Sept. 14.— Five years ago 1 heard
President Oilman, of Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity, in an address to the pupils of
Tome Institute, over yonder in Porl De-
posit, remind them that they were living
not only in a region of much attractive-
ness, but in a country replete with stories
of times far past.

What Dr. Gilman said then recurred to
me again and again today, and I gave it
a much wider significance as I watched
the trains scurry across the Susquehanna
on the two big bridges of the Pennsyl-
vania and Baltimore and Ohio Railroads.
The children of Pert Deposit may have
been largely unaware of the historic in-
terest of the country round about, but the
travelers on the many trains that fly past
here are more densely ignorant. They
look out from the car windows upon the
broad river as it passes into the still
broader waters of the bay, and they call
it pretty or tine after the momentary
glance. lint how much more interested
they would be were the legends and sto-
ries of Havre de Grace and Port Deposit
known.

The special subject of Dr. Oilman's ad-
dress upon the occasion referred to was
the island which is in the centre of the
Susquehanna's mouth, its lower end not
far from the Pennsylvania Railroad bridge,
while its upper end serves to furnish sup-
port for the higher and newer bridge of
the Baltimore and Ohio. Today it is Wat-
son's Island, and a truck farm. But in
early days, nearly three centuries ago, it
was known as Palmer's, after its first
settler, Edward Palmer, a man from

172

Shakespeare's county, a graduate of Ox-
ford, distinguished in his time as an anti-
quary, and an uncle of the unfortunate
Sir Thomas Overbury.

Dr. Gilman pointed out that the island
is distinctly linked with the earliest his-
tory of education in America, for Palmer
made a will, in which he bequeathed this
island to his alma mater on condition that
Oxford University would undertake the
establishment of a college in the New
World, to be called the Oxford Academy of
Virginia. This was in 1624, and ante-
dated the bequests of John Harvard in
New England. The English university
never undertook the bequest because more
direct heirs stood first. Palmer died in
1625.

For Marylanders Palmer and his island
have another especial story. Before Lord
P>altimore's colonists came to St. Marys,
even before William Clayborne settled out
there on Kent Island, Palmer and asso-
ciates had taken possession of this island
"at the bottom of the Susquehanna" as a
convenient place for trading with the In-
dians of the bay and river. They were
thus the first white settlers in Maryland.
A writer of their time asserts that Palmer
actually entered into the trading scheme
to raise funds for his school plan, but
that the dishonesty and bad capacity of
some of his agents caused losses instead
of gains.

Havre de Grace is such a placid town
nowadays that it requires an effort to pic-
ture the excitement and terrible incidents
which accompanied its burning by the
British on the morning of May 3, 1813,
more than a year prior to the unsuccess-
ful attack on Baltimore and during a
predatory incursion up to the head of the
Chesapeake. I was fortunte to get hold
of an almost contemporaneous account.
"The Conflagration of Havre de Grace,"
and this morning I read it while we were
standing on a bluff at Perry ville, on the
east bank of the river, with the whole
scenic setting for the town's tragedy
spread out before me.

In the early sun the town as I viewed it
across the river's mile reminded me strong-

173

ly of those Canadian villages which seem
so quaint to the steamboat traveler on
the St. Lawrence. North of the town is a
hill marking the termination of the high
ridge which closely follows the river on
its west side for the last 50 miles of its
course. In the flat country at the base of
this hill, but set back from the river by
a moderate bluff, lies the town, its many
houses half hid from the Perryville side
by the tops of trees. At its south end is
the low point which juts out where the
river ends and the bay begins, and which
is occupied by a whitewashed lighthouse.

On this point militia from the neighbor-
hood hastily constructed a battery when
the British fleet anchored half a dozen
miles down the bay. near Spesuria Island,
clearly visible from where I stood this
morning. There were several weeks of
watchful, anxious days and fearful nights,
and the British fleet lingered so long out
there that the people on land thought
there would be no attack and grew less
careful. Suddenly at daybreak on a clear
day was the alarm that the British were
coming, and on the bay could be seen a
score of barges laden with redcoats. It
must have made a fine picture, though
naturally a terrifying one. to the Havre
de Grace households. Rockets and shells
began to be thrown from the bnrges as
they headed from the bay into the river,
and in panic the women and children and
most of the militia fled to the hill north
of the town already mentioned. The few
who remained did what they could from
the battery on the point to check the on-
coming British, but they were unsuccess-
ful, and the barges passed the point, made
a landing on the river side and captured
the battery from behind, taking the brave
fellows prisoners.

The town was already on fire from shot
and shell, and to these the British sol-
diers soon added the torch. They went
about plundering in small parties, helping
themselves to what they fancied, and then
setting the dwellings ablaze. Several la-
dies finally ventured back into the burn-
ing village and by their entreaties saved
the remaining buildings.

174

The British force was re-embarked and
went up the river to the little village of
Lapidum, four miles above Havre de
Grace, on the west bank. Here there was
a cannon factory, which they burned.
Port Deposit lies opposite Lapidum, and
in another hastily constructed fort there
a company of volunteers watched, with
beating hearts, for the British to turn
their way. But nightfall was near at hand.
and the attack did not come, as the British
returned to their ships.

In Revolutionary days the fleet of Ad-
miral Lord Howe was for several days
at anchor in the same position as this
British fleet was 50 years later, but Havre
de Grace was too small to be attacked,
and Philadelphia was the objective point.
This town was merely a small cluster of
houses at the west end of an important
ferry. When communication first began
between the colonies, 200 years ago, Havre
de Grace naturally lay in the path of
travel north and south, just as it does
today with the railroads. A ferry was here
in 1635 and probably earlier. In the Revo-
lution it was the crossing place for large
bodies of troops. Sometimes the Susque-
hanna was avoided by a route by boat
from Klkton to Annapolis, and vice versa,
but it is known that Washington's army
in 17S2, on its return northward after the
victory over Cornwallis. crossed here at
Havre de Grace, for a diarist who accom-
panied the army records that two days
were required for getting over the Susque-
hanna, only one ferryboat being available.
When burned by the British. Havre de
Grace was a village of not more than 60
houses. Today it is a town with 3,000 in-
habitants. Fisheries aided its growth, and
lumber was rafted down the river to it,
as well as to Port Deposit, opposite. But
the main help for Havre de Grace came
from the Tidewater Canal, built along the
west bank of the Susquehanna from Co-
lumbia to Havre de Grace 60 years ago,
and with a lock and outlet at the Mary-
land terminus costing half a million dol-
lars. Now that the canal lies helpless, va-
rious business enterprises have come to
the front, and its people find employment

175

in canneries, a lumber mill, a sash fac-
tory, a shoe factory, a cotton factory and
others.

They have a tradition here that General
Lafayette selected the name of their town
by remarking that its site was very much
like that of Havre de Grace, now the im-
portant French port of Havre. Another
traveler is reported to have said the town
and its surroundings closely recall Rio
Janeiro.

The fisheries of this lower end of the
river are by no means to be despised.
Each spring for more than a century large
quantities of shad and herring have been
caught with seines and gillnets and the
fish salted and prepared for a wide mar-
ket. Formerly it was the custom for
thrifty farmers for many miles around to
come here prepared for a week's stay in
order to lay in a stock of salt fish "against
the year." We are told that these fishing
gatherings were lively jamborees in many
cases.

For the duck-hunter and the angler
Havre de Grace is a gate into Paradise.
It has long been famous for canvasbaek
duck, which are shot on the "flats" or
marsh lands of the bay and near-by
creeks— a sport which has in the last 50
years attracted into this region some of
the most noted of America's public men.
In spring and summer rock are plentiful
a few miles up stream, and bass still far-
ther up. The trains and the steamboats
leaving here for Baltimore often carry
anglers with fine "strings."

A small island containing several yellow-
painted buildings lies near the channel of
the bay a few miles below Havre de Grace
and in the midst of the wild celery growths
which the ducks love. Here is a fish hatch-
ery of the United States Government. The
island is known as Fishing Battery.

On each bank of the river here are large
ice-houses. In recent years the ice which
has formed has not been thick enough to
bear cutting, and these big barnlike struc-
tures have stood desolate and forsaken.
But in former years a plentiful harvest
was often reaped, and the scene on the
frozen river was a strange and busy one.

176

One set of men with horses were busy
marking out the iee fields and cutting
them as deep as was safe. Another set
followed them, sawing, plowing, planing;
a third set towed the big blocks down a
canal purposely cut toward the ice-house,
its strip of cold water showing black
against the white ice on either side. At
the foot of the inclined plane or elevator
into the ice-house other men kept the
crystal blocks in a procession up the in-
cline, while at the top still other men
sorted them, rejecting those which were
not good and sending far into the dark
interior those which were later destined
to bring summer comfort to Baltimoreans.

While some reap fortunes from the riv-
er's ice, others get disaster. In the first
spring days, when the ice up the river is
splitting and breaking, it is liable to jam
and form great gorges in the narrow parts
and then suddenly release the waters
dammed by it so as to cause vast floods
to sweep down upon the towns of Havre
de Grace and Port Deposit. Every few
years this occurs, leaving disaster and in-
calculable damage in its wake.

In many homes in this region there are
pictures representing the famous ice rail-
road across the river at this point. There
was no bridge here then, and the scheme
of travel included a transfer from Havre
de Grace to Perryville by a steamboat.
An ice gorge in the winter of 1851-2 so
completely blocked navigation that the
company laid tracks upon the ice, and
from January 15 to February 24 passed
over them 10,000 tons of freight, baggage
and mails in 1,378 cars. The mode of
handling the traffic was by the use of
locomotives on either side. By one the
car was given a start down an inclined
plane from the tracks to the surface of
the ice. This start caused the cars to
run out on the ice a considerable distance,
when they were hauled by horses to the
foot of the inclined slope on the opposite
shore, where, by means of a locomotive
and ;i cable, they were lifted to the level
of the permanent tracks.

In 1857 a similar gorge took place, and
it not being deemed safe to have a rail-

177

road on the ice, a plank road was laid
there, and passengers walked, while the
baggage and freight were pulled over by
horse. Since 1866 the bridge has been
used.

Of the two goodly-sized towns nere near
the mouth of the Susquehanna I think the
palm for attractive location must go to
Port Deposit. A ridge goes up precipi-
tously from the river banks, and Port De-
posit was thus forced to grow in a long,
narrow line north and south. Viewed
from a boat on the broad river the town
is a pretty picture, for its long row of
homes and stores has a charming back-
ground in the green hills.

The river is the only place from which
to get a good view of the remarkable
"hanging gardens" back of the handsome
home of the late Jacob Tome, a million-
aire to whom Port Deposit owes most of
its happiness and prosperity. Originally
the hill rose in uncouth fashion h'gh be-
hind the house and away above its tower
and mansard roof. Through blasting and
hard work by masons a series of stone ter-
races was built all the way up the hillside
and then covered with vines, forming a
garden landscape which is unique.

In the mansion at the foot Mr. Tome's
widow still lives, carrying on his enter-
prises and his charities with marked tact
and business ability. She is the president
of the local national bank, which was
founded by her husband, and is president
of the Board of Trustees of the Jacob
Tome Institute, whose square, red brick
home is on the river side, almost imme-
diately in front of the mansion. This in-
stitution was planned by Mr. Tome as a
model free public school for all grades,
which should be free, first to the children
of Port Deposit, then to the children of
the county. Cecil, then to the children of
Maryland and then to American children
generally. It had been in operation nine
years when the founder died, last year,
and its success was such that he pro-
vided liberally for its maintenance, the en-
dowment being, it is said, about $4,000,000.
The school has reopened this week for
the wintor in charge of a new principal,

formerly head master of Lawrenceville
school. I was told that fine new buildings
are to be erected on the ridge back of the
town.

A short distance north from the insti-
tute is another evidence of Mr. Tome's
liberality to his fellow-citizens. This is
the Tome Memorial Methodist Episcopal
Church, one of the handsomest rural
churches in this country. It was erected
28 years ago at a cost of $65,000.

Mr. Tome was a native of York county,
Pennsylvania, a poor boy, who first made
money in handling a good share of the
lumber trade which used to reach Port
Deposit in rafting days. Subsequently he
dealt in fertilizers, then did a big bank-
ing business and used his capital to de-
velop many transportation and business in-
dustries.

Port Deposit's chief industry today is Its
quarries. A fine quality of granite is
taktn from the hillside at the north end
of the town. Several hundred men find
employment there. The total population
of the town is about 2,000.

The story of Port Deposit is more re-
cent than that of Havre de Grace. There
was a ferry kept across the river by the
afterward noted Thomas Cresap, but Port
Deposit was not named and was not even
a village until it became the lower termi-
nus of the old Maryland Canal, which was
built about a hundred years ago on the
east side of the river from the State line,
and of which there are only traces now.

There is a tale of this region more ro-
mantic than any found along the entire
Susquehanna. It concerns the fortunes of
a daredevil cousin of one of the Lords
Baltimore, George Talbot. Much of It
reads like the wildest fiction. I am keep-
ing it for my last letter.

179

XXII.

GEORGE TALBOT'S CAVE.

On Watson's Island, Md., in the
Mouth of the Susquehanna, Sept. 15.—
From where I stand now. on the north
end of this historic island, I can plainly
see a mass of rock rising naked and al-
most straight up for several hundred feet
above the east bank of the river about
half a mile below Port Deposit.

Until some years ago there was a cave
in that high hill, which has from time
immemorial been known as Mount Ararat.
Traditions of the country hereabouts as-
sert that in that cave George Talbot, a
cousin of the Lords Baltimore, hid during
the excitement which followed his killing
of Christopher Rousby, a royal tax col-
lector, in October, 1684.

This concealment in a cave was but one
of many such incidents in George Talbot's
career. Indeed, his adventures in Mary-
land read more like the developments of
a sensational thread of fiction than the
plain narrative of history. Yet it is a
story well known as fact to the readers
of the history of colonial Maryland and
one that is frequently recalled.

George Talbot owned, through the favor
of his cousin, the lord proprietary, one of
the most extensive tracts of land ever
granted in Maryland. It included all the
country between Octoraro creek and North
East river. The Octoraro empties into
the Susquehanna on its east side half a
dozen miles above Port Deposit. North
East river flows into the Chesapeake bay
several miles east of the mouth of the
Susquehanna. Both streams have their
origin in Pennsylvania some miles north
of the Maryland line. Consequently the

180

tract granted to George Talbot included a
good slice of what is now Cecil county,
Maryland, and another good bit of Ches-
ter county, Pennsylvania.

"Susquehanna Manor" was the name
which Lord Baltimore applied in the grant
to Talbot, who is described in the deed as
"our right trusty and right well-beloved
cousin and councilor, George Talbot, of
Castle Rooney, in the county of *Roscom-
mon, in the Kingdom of Ireland, Esq."

We of the present day are so accustomed
to living under a republic that it seems
hard to comprehend that "Susquehanna
Manor" was intended to be a genuine
feudal estate, in which George Talbot as
"lord of the manor" was absolute master.
He was expressly authorized to dispense
justice through manorial courts whenever
he so elected, and he introduced from Ire-
land a body of retainers and tenants ready
to do his bidding as their lord. In his
palmy days he had a company of mounted
rangers, whose duty it was to scour the
country and repel the attacks of hostile
Indians. A line of blockhouses extended
from the Susquehanna back into the ex-
tremes of the manor, and signals were
established for the purpose of calling the
"(dan" together. Beacon fires on the
hills, the blowing of horns and the firing
of three musket shots in succession, either
in the daytime or at night, gave notice of
approaching danger and called this border
chieftain's followers together.

In another interesting way George Tal-
bot transplanted the customs of the mid-
dle ages to Maryland. He was fond of
the then decaying sport of hunting with
hawks, called falconry, and he brought
with him when he came to Maryland, in
1680, several of his trained falcons, and
with them pursued game in the Susque-
hanna hills. Traditions exist which say
that the falcons supplied him with food
when he was hidden in the cave already
mentioned, and still other traditions as-
sert that the falcons remained here long
after George Talbot had left the country,
and that they made their home on the
peak of Mount Ararat.

It was not mere generosity to a relative
which induced Lord Baltimore to give Tal-

181

bot such a big estate. William Penn had
just procured a grant for Pennsylvania,
and it was evident that the grants over-
lapped and that a boundary dispute was
to ensue. For this reason Talbot, who
was known to his cousin as an impetuous
and courageous Irishman, was given the
tract on the border that he might defend
hi> cousin's rights, and it was expressly
stipulated in the grant that within 12
years he was to settle at least 640 immi-
grants there. For the four years from
1680 until 1684 Talbot upheld Maryland's
end with fidelity, now raiding the planta-
tion of some holder of a Penn grant, now
garrisoning a fort in disputed territory.

It is related in quaint fashion in the
archives of Pennsylvania how a sheriff of
that State rode up with deputies to such
a fort and demanded Talbot's authority
for coming there, whereupon, we are told,
"Talbot, with divers of his company, bade
them stand off, presenting their guns and
muskets against their breasts, and he,
pulling a paper, commander-like, out of his
bosom, said: "Here is my Lord Baltimore's
commission for what I do.' Then the sher-
iff bid Talbot and his men depart, but in
the same warlike posture they stood, and
in Lord Baltimore's name refused to obey."

One of Talbot's most daring schemes was
a plan to kidnap William Penn. The noted
Quaker in 1683 left his infant city of Phil-
adelphia to pay his first visit to that por-
tion of his domain about the lower Sus-
quehanna. Talbot believed that by sud-
denly seizing Penn he would end the whole
dispute. It was a scheme that was worthy
of Talbot and of the times. In some way
its execution was prevented, most prob-
ably through a warning to Penn from some
cne friendly to the latter's claims.

Talbot's murder of Rousby caused a
tragic end of his exciting life in Mary-
land, but it was done in defense of Lord
Baltimore's rights, though it undoubtedly
hurt Lord Baltimore's influence in Eng-
land. King Charles II was jealous of the
privileges and exemptions of Lord Balti-
more's charter, and his royal tax collectors
and agents followed his example by be-
having with as much tyranny and insult

182

as they dared. This became so marked in
the case of Rousby and his associate,
Capt. Thomas Allen, who was cruising
the Chesapeake in a royal brig, that Tal-
bot, in anger, went on board the brig at
old St. Mary's to demand an explanation
of their conduct. He was at the time a
deputy governor of the province, surveyor-
general and president of the provincial
council, so that he had abundant author-
ity for his visit.

Talbot, Allen and Rousby got into a vio-
lent quarrel on the brig, and when Talbot
wished to go on shore he was prevented
from doing so. Then he drew a dagger
and stabbed Rousby to the heart. Allen
carried Talbot as a prisoner to Virginia,
refusing to surrender him to the Mary-
land authorities for trial.

The next incident in Talbofs career is
not the least interesting. It was his res-
cue from Gloucester gaol by his wife and
a few devoted retainers. In midwinter
they sailed down the Chesapeake in Tal-
bot's yacht, called a shallop, and landed
about 20 miles from Gloucester, where two
of Talbot's faithful followers, Phelim Mur-
ray and Hugh Reilly, mounted swift
horses and started for the prison. There,
by Irish wit and suavity, they accom-
plished the release of Talbot and brought
him back in safety to the vessel on which
his wife waited. Then they made the best
of speed back to Susquehanna Manor.

In the hue and cry which followed the
escape Talbot bethought him of the cave
on Mount Ararat's steep hillside. It was
a natural formation in the granite bluff,
about 12 feet wide, 10 feet high and 20
feet deep. Its exact location was on the
northern end of the hill, not far above
the river and near Herring run, the little
stream which runs into the river there.
Until 30 years ago the cave was an object
of much attention on the part of the curi-
ous in the neighborhood, but finally it
was removed by blasting the rocks which
surrounded it in order to use them for an
improvement in river navigation.

To this cave Talbot repaired. He had
with him a flaxen wig and other means of
disguise, and he was kept supplied with

183

*

information and food by several faithful
followers, among them Richard Touch-
stone, who subsequently came into pos-
session of Mount Ararat and the cave. It
seems probable that Talbot did not make
a continuous stay in the cave, but fre-
quently ventured forth in his boat for a
sail upon the river and bay.

Finally, to save his friends further anx-
iety, the courageous Irishman voluntarily
surrendered himself and was in April,
1686, tried in Virginia and convicted of
the murder of Rousby. But his noble
kinsman. Lord Baltimore, was prepared
for the emergency and had obtained from
the King and sent over a pardon.

With his influence lost because of his
crime, Talbot did not remain long upon
Susquehanna Manor after his return to it
from Virginia. He went back to Ireland,
took part in the struggle between James
II and the Protestants, and after the
downfall of the Stuarts entered the serv-
ice of France in the noted Irish Brigade,
with which he was killed in battle.

There remains no trace of the manor
house or feudal home which Talbot had
built on Principio creek near Principio
Falls, a few miles back from the Sus-
quehanna and near the spot where the
Principio Iron Furnace has been located
for nearly 200 years. Lord Baltimore sub-
sequently made new grants of the vast
quantity of land embraced in Susquehanna
Manor, and with the manor utterly gone,
the home on Principio gone and the cave
on Mount Ararat gone, there is now
naught to recall the romantic story of
George Talbot save the records of history.
Into what the lower end of the Susque-
hanna might have developed had Talbot
retained his feudal power no one can guess.

This evening we leave the Susquehanna.
For a month we have journeyed beside it,
and the promise of beauty and historic
charm which induced us to start upon such
a jaunt has indeed been well kept. Few
rivers could do so much. With memory's
aid this one shall ever be cherished.

184